Super/Natural

 Greetings fellow humans!

Here is a video to experience the dome via video:

 

If you wish to read and learn about the dome, there is a brief essay at the bottom of this post.

Here are a bunch of photos (mostly) by Dom Episcopo

“Super/Natural” is a stained glass environment representing a “three-tiered cosmos”.

 

In 2023, I became an artist in residence at the Penn Center for Neuroaesthetics.  This project is the result of attending their lab meetings over the course of a year and a half and is the time it took to complete the dome.

 

The dome is 8 feet high at its tallest and 5’6” in diameter.  The windows were designed and fabricated by me. The dome architecture was designed by me in collaboration with carpenter Patrick Murray who contributed his architectural background and engineering skill.

 

Thank you to Dr Anjan Chatterjee and Penn Center forNeuroaesthetics (PCfN), Claire Oliver Gallery, Patrick Murray, Konstantin Sievaplesov (studio assistant), Richard Prigg, and Glenn Carter. 

 

I would like to express my immense gratitude to my parents, Moselio and Barbara Schaechter. My father, who served as the chairman of Microbiology at Tufts University for 23 years, awakened in me a love of science—especially through his collection of antique mushroom books, with their fantastic illustrations. My mother, former director of the League School of Boston (now the League School of Autism), nurtured my curiosity about the human mind from an early age through books and conversations. Thank you, Mom and Dad, for your inspiration and support.

 

 

One of the research themes at Penn Center for Neuroaesthetics is “the built environment and wellness”.  It was there that I learned of

biophilicdesign. Biophilic principles are often used in hospitals and office buildings to create “refresh rooms” and non-secular chapels—places to lower stress and encourage feelings of serenity and peace.  It comes as no surprise that reconnecting with nature is healing.  Like many urban people, I myself have very rarely experienced wild spaces. I don’t own a car, and I have been city-bound most of my life. Super/Natural is a response to that condition.

 

Without delving too deeply into mysticism, it seems biophilic design offers an opportunity to reconcile human consciousness with the environment. It challenges the perceived divide between mind and body, person vs nature, as well as the mental distinction between "interior vs. exterior" or "self vs. not-self”, revealing it as a perceptual illusion. While this distinction has practical heuristic value, it also fosters loneliness and isolation.  I suspect this disconnection enables social and ecological harm. My goal was to create something that “heals” this divide.

 

By situating the viewer at the center of a three-tiered cosmos, Super/Natural invites contemplation of both inner space—how we experience environments neurologically and psychologically—and outer space—how we extend ourselves into our surroundings. I aimed to inspire reflection on our interdependence with all life on Earth, encouraging an internalized sense of connection akin to viewing the "blue marble," from within rather than from the far-off perspective of outer space.  We are ultimately connected to, not just observing nature.

 

Although I am not religious, I chose a chapel as a direct reference to spiritual architecture that uses art for reflection, awe, and transcendence. As a stained glass artist, I am acutely aware that my work is exhibited in lightboxes, not in churches and temples as is traditional. Thus, I have thought for years that I would like to make a “personal shrine” for a single viewer.  This goes against the convention of thinking in the monumental terms suggested by cathedrals as well as many contemporary art venues. Western culture tends to revere the huge and sublime while undervaluing the small, intimate, and inscendent. This preference for grandeur creates physical and psychological distance between the viewer and the stained glass. I sought to collapse that separation. Moreover, stained glass in churches and public spaces is almost always designed for a collective audience. In the age of mass media, there’s a temptation to assume that reaching the largest number of people is inherently better. Super/Natural challenges that notion by offering a semi-private experience.

 

The imagery in Super/Natural references nature, but it is entirely derived from my imagination. It is intended to evoke the sense of nature as understood by a human mind—similar to the natural history images that influenced my childhood. They are, ultimately, about invoking nature more than depicting it. At PCfN, I learned that creativity is often tested using the 'Alternative Uses Test,' in which subjects are asked to generate as many uses as possible for a common object—like a brick—within a limited time. The test is scored across four dimensions (fluency, originality, flexibility and elaboration).   The flower and bird imagery in the dome was a challenge to my imagination.  How many flowers, birds and bugs could I invent before my inspiration ran dry? What would this say about the potential for the inventive capacity of drawing? I hope I have discovered that imagination is potentially infinite!

 

Imagination is often thought of as frivolous or a waste of time. But what could be more amazing than the extension of consciousness beyond what feels possible, beyond reality?  It is my belief that expressing one’s authentic imagination is the most important, radical thing we can do as conscious beings.  It is my belief the mind can conjure feelings of awe independent of external experience (and substances) and hopefully the dome will prove to be an example of that.

 

One final historical link that bears mentioning is that the botanical prints that inspired the work were often created by women as this was a permissible art form for them in the 17^th Century. No wonder they are so amazing looking—all that artistic energy had to be funneled into this one constricting art mode!

 

The composition is based on the cross-cultural theme of a "three tiered cosmos".  The ten panels at eye level represent the "Earthly Domain". These panels consist of images of plants and insects in a profusion of exuberant life.  Below are ten panels of wallpaper representing the "Under World".  The imagery includes roots, unhatched larva, buried bones, mycelium and other motifs of underground.  The "Heavens", the geodesic dome itself, contains 45 triangular panels.  This area depicts a murmuration of colorful birds and stars.  Underfoot is a carpet of my design depicting a whirlpool, mirroring the spiral of birds above.

 

Techniques

I use a material called "Flash Glass”.  Flash glass is a type of hand-blown glass with a paper-thin veneer of intense color on a base layer of lighter color.  One reason there is a lot of color in each section of my pictures is that the flash glass is layered, typically two pieces deep, red on clear and blue on clear with the addition of black enamel and silverstain.

 

I cut the glass using a steel wheel cutter and a grozing or running pliers.  The next step is sandblasting, a process by which one can remove the colored layer, to get patterns and tones.  After sandblasting, I engrave finer details using rotary tools and create smooth tonal shifts in color with diamond hand files.

When the engraving is done, I add black enamel which fires onto glass permanently. I also use silverstain (which is yellow). I used a fuchsia transparent enamel in places as well.  This is all the paint I use--all the other color is the flash glass itself.  The use of red and blue glass, combined with small amounts of black, yellow, and pink enamel, produces a full-color spectrum within a single section of glass, eliminating the need for a cut line.

The wallpaper originated from two high-resolution images of previous stained glass windows I created based on pencil sketches. These images were manipulated with Photoshop software to combine them with stained glass-like transparency.

__

 

Here are the “Cliff Notes” supplied by Chatgpt:

 

Summary of Key Themes

1. Biophilic design and reconnection with nature
2. Healing psychological and social divides and creating connections
3. Interior vs. exterior space and dissolving boundaries
4. Imagination as a force for creativity and transformation
5. Resistance to monumentalism in favor of intimacy
6. The symbolic structure of the three-tiered cosmos
7. Technical mastery of stained glass craft
8. Art as a site for awe, reflection, and transcendence

 

These themes are interconnected, reinforcing the overarching goal of Super/Natural to invite viewers into a deeply personal, immersive experience that explores the connections between self, nature, and imagination.

 

 

Isola restoration complete!

 Here's the pictures!

I am ecstatic!  This is one of my favorite pieces of mine and I think one of the. best.  Well worth doing twice!  (or almost twice!)

The color and shape difference in the pictures are due to the fact that I was using my phone to document the repair.  The original piece was professionally photographed (by photographer extraordinaire, Dominic Episcopo 

Mega thank yous go to Rick Prigg of Sycamore Studio and Gallery 26 and Glenn Carter.

Isola RESTORED!

 

 

 

 

Pic 1: Original portfolio shot before damage, Pic 2: X marks the smashed parts, Pic 3: Finished restoration, Pic 4 (below) white arrows indicate the two main differences in the original and the restored version. Top arrow: new lead line, bottom arrow, removed old lead line)

This section RESTORED! (her body, the piece to her right and the piece above, amongst others)

zooming out a bit.

So Nice I Made it Twice

 In 2018, I posted about Isola.  I bring it up because I want to make a point about something.

And that something has to do with love and value.  "Isola" is unsold, meaning no one asked me to fix her. 

While I did successfully get money for repairing the damage from the shipping company, I could have pocketed the money and not done the repair.  Of course, if I fix it, it can be for sale again. But to some, she's damaged goods. Which strikes me as a shame.

Do we call humans who have suffered "damaged goods"...well, sometimes!  But judge not lest ye be judged.  We are ALL damaged goods!

To me, Isola is priceless and always will be.  And the fact that she was damaged does not decrease her value, but INCREASE it.  Why? Because I think when an artist loves something enough to fix it, it means something.  She is more loveable because she has suffered.

Have you read Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote by Jorge Luis Borges?  The story of told in the form of a book review.  Pierre Menard is an author who has rewritten Cervantes' Don Quixote word for word.  An exact duplicate.  But the reviewer makes the case that Menard's text is actually better than the original.  Why? Because Menard's method was to labor intensely over every single word in the book and to ultimately decide in favor of using it. Funny, right?  Totally. But it speaks to why redoing the parts of Isola exactly as they were done originally means more than doing them the first time.

New parts cut out

New parts in progress

New parts for figure complete placed next to broken ones for comparison

New parts complete (so far)

 

 

Some other thoughts:

She is one of increasingly few figurative works by me. I do not think I will ever outdo her face.  Maybe equal it, but just look at her!  Am I bragging?  I don't think so--I feel I am incapable of having done this myself--I was channeling a higher power for sure.  They get the credit.  And while I can re-make her, I cannot conceive of her again, if I ever did in the first place. She was an accident, after all. 

Her face is the essence of serenity and acceptance. Her posture, the essence of inscendence, interiority, integrity and unity.  Her situation, the essence of, well, what it must be like to be on a tiny island of beauty and danger.  Maybe you see none of this, it matters little. I am sure you see something.

I Despise the Sound of Breaking Glass

 So, this happened.

I shipped a piece to Europe and it arrived smashed.  I'll bet you want a forensic analysis of what I did wrong!  Well, I had a crate made and it was a good crate (wooden box packed inside a bigger wooden box).  Maybe it could have been a little bigger to accommodate more rigid foam--but I didn't think so at the time since I have received much undamaged sheet glass from Europe packed in a whole lot less.  

I shipped it using a big international shipper--not an art shipper.  Maybe not the best idea, but affordable. Again, that's how I have received sheet glass. Always unbroken, and sheet glass is much more at risk than a stained glass window which is made up of much smaller  pieces.

Upon analyzing the damage to the crate and the window, we (Myself, and experts Rick Prigg and Glenn Carter) determined the crate had fallen over and remained horizontal while traveling.  This accounted for the smashing, which was due to shock and then the clam-shelling which is what happens when the broken pieces rub against each other repeatedly.  Horizontal is always bad for stained glass and the labeling on the crate didn't result in anyone righting the crate.  (Solution: next time, add plywood wings to the bottom of the crate so it can only ride upright.  This is what the person who shipped it back to me did.)

"Isola" in all its unbroken glory

I wanted to restore the window because I feel it is one of my best ever.

Broken pieces marked with an "X".  However, the large piece under her feet is also broken but I didn't know that until later as the breaks are so clean.

I was able to claim $ for the repair from the shipping company. Yay me.  I was very surprised, actually, as I had been told entire skyscrapers in Omaha are dedicated to offices of people who's sole job it is to deny claims.  They were very nice, actually.

Here are some pictures of the first step of restoration, which is to remove the broken pieces by unsoldering them.  This is NOT easy or simple. In fact, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.  A loathsome process! It took hours and hours to remove them because it must be done very slowly and carefully to prevent further damage.  It takes two people. Two ridiculously patient people. The person you see here is Rick Prigg who is truly an expert (as well as one of my best friends!). He runs Sycamore Studio and Gallery 26 in Lansdowne and if you need  stained glass windows, newly designed or damaged ones repaired, I highly recommend him!

Below are some pictures of the de-soldering process.  Stay tuned for more posts regarding the restoration of this piece!!

Uncrating the piece

The pieces had been stabilized for return shipping with very sticky plastic sheets which needed to be removed first.

Beginning to unsolder (damn, its messy!)

 

Isola unsoldered.

 

Removed broken pieces.  The figure, the water and the sky will be totally remade.

Top: broken pieces Bottom: Broken pieces pushed together.  Since the break is so clean and the section so difficult to reproduce, this section will get hxtal-ed back together.  Hxtal is a glass glue--stronger than glass, actually.  When its complete the naked eye will not be able to detect any cracks.

AI Love You!

 



For ages in the west, people have contemplated what separates us from the animals.  Human exceptionalism is just one of many ways we have managed to divide ourselves from nature (I'm looking at you, Rene Descartes!) with the result that our flimsy self-esteem would appear to rest on feelings of superiority to nature.  It doesn't take a genius to observe that this has enabled us to exploit our own environment, ultimately setting in motion what will be our own destruction if we don't do something soon. 

 

Yay humans!  Yeah, no other animal has done that!

 

In what's left of our future; however, we may find ourselves wondering what separates us from machines. It seems obvious that the idea is that they somehow serve us and make us better humans and improve our lives. But once we outsource imagination to AI, what's left to feel good about as people?  Oiling the robots?  Oops, did we accidentally just irrelevize ourselves? Or was it on purpose?

 

I'm not here to talk about AI in general--just the slice that affects art. I am fine with AI as a tool.  I love tools. I did 3-d animation for a while, blah blah blah. But supposedly AI will be so good that we will become the tool, and then what?

For centuries, art has explained to “the masses” that it’s a-ok to outsource the labor.  If you feel slightly queasy about the authenticity of art fabricated by someone other than the artist, well, be off, you ignorant philistine!  Never mind the elitism, we artists are wearing long black coats.  So there. But what happens when we outsource the labor AND the idea coming-up-with?  For about a hundred years, we in the arts have gone on and on about the preciousness of concept, locating the value of the artwork, not to mention the prestige of the artist, firmly in the idea.  So, what happens when it’s not a human coming up with the idea? 

 

Secondly why would we even want to outsource our imaginations to a non-human system in the first place? Isn’t that the fun part? Most artists I know really enjoy the brainstorming part of creativity (also known as “Divergent thinking”).  But when people talk about AI affecting art, they are usually not worried about the artists (which is why no one really cares if “AI takes our jobs”), but the art consumers.  We can always round up those silly artists who love thinking up their own ideas for art and retrain them to oil robots.  We already did that with craftspersons! This leaves the question of will AI make better art than people?*

 

But before I tackle that one, there is something else pernicious at work here that pertains to the matters at hand (pun intended). AI is obviously able and vastly more efficient at generating a kajillion possibilities than a human.  It doesn’t appear to cost very much or at least its easily available.  Avoiding the inevitable tide of technology has never worked, has it?  So why not just close our eyes and think of England?

 

I read somewhere that humans are biologically engineered to avoid any extra effort.  To escape the gravitational pull of easy and available shortcuts is almost impossible.  Most people, even art students just aren’t passionate or, perhaps, crazy enough.  As a long time teacher I know that temptations that save time and (appear to) cost little can be too much to resist.  For example, in the past 15 years or so, the following scenario has happened at least once per semester, sometimes more often.  I would see the student using their telephones as tiny light tables being used to copy pictures found on google image search (the more enterprising ones actually print them out).  When I asked why they weren’t drawing it themselves instead of tracing, they would say “I can’t draw”.  To which I would reply, “And sadly, you will never learn”.  (Never mind how crazy it is that this is happening in an ART SCHOOL!  For god’s sakes people, get a grip!)

 

But I do have sympathy.  The learning curve for drawing (and creating, for that matter) isn’t as steep as it may look, but it does extend basically forEVER into the future.  Ditto for using your own imagination. It’s not as simple as pushing a button or opening a door and there this glorious thing is, voila!  Right there on your eyelids waiting to be transcribed. No, coaxing imagination into being is more challenging than that.

 

There was a critical juncture when I was in art school, when our painting professor said those infamous words: “From now on you can paint what you want!” and we all cheered and celebrated and then fell into a huge existential crisis.  We had NO IDEA what to do.  I remember thinking I wanted to work from my imagination—and I had the impression that would be super easy, because, hey! I had been doing it my whole life right up until a year and a half ago when my art professors demanded I paint observationally from models and still life set ups.  In a mere year and half, access to my imagination had been eradicated!  Or maybe more accurately, it had been overwritten.  And when I tried to work from it now, it seemed idiotic, like trivial teenage album-cover-art surrealism.  EW!  I had to reinvent it from scratch and that, dear reader, is what I have been working on for the past 40 years.  It hasn’t been easy or simple, I can tell you that.  It’s so easy to coopt someone else’s imagination.  I have done that many times and was convinced it was my own until I realized, oopsy, it’s not.

But why bother?  Why not let AI do it for me? Or you.

 

For a while I have had a hunch that to express one’s actual individual imagination is a radical (and political) act. Mainly because that’s what authoritarianism and conformism really doesn’t want you to do.  It must be done with great belief that it imagination has some intrinsic value. 

 

Alongside imagination, there is also handwork.

I spent years defending Craft at the now defunct University of the Arts.  Two main arguments arose as a response to industrialization. They feel old as the hills and have obviously not changed anyone’s mind. The first was Ruskin’s moral defense which basically said that handwork is good for the soul of the individual as well as society at large.  Second is Walter Benjamin’s essay “Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction” which described "aura" as the unique presence and authenticity of a work of art.  The first argument makes me want to get dressed up in a historic milkmaid costume and lug water buckets with a shoulder yoke. The second makes me want to consult crystals.  We need to do better, people!  I will say, although many agree with those reasons for preserving handwork, no one will actually do what it takes to ensure its preservation or value. Bummer.

 

I think a good question to ask is: what purpose does art serve that demands a human presence (as maker, as viewer)?  Maybe ask Marina Abramovic!  Imagine “The Artist is Present” without the artist present!

 

If we go to art to feel connection, to feel understood etc--what does it mean when we are willing to experience that with something that is a simulation?  it reminds me of the emerging artificial intelligence applications that allow people to interact with a digital representation of a deceased person.

There’s plenty of evidence these AI models are really good at handling our big feelings and making us feel all smooshy with simulated empathy.  But since when is connection a one way street? Our sense of feeling understood, connected, loved is often predicated on being able to return the favor.  In art as well.   We feel a work of art speaks for us, maybe in a deeply personal way, and we love it back and maybe pay it forward.   And we can love AI generated art too.  But what does it mean if AI doesn’t care about our love?

 

Another thing we go to art for is that undefinable, ephemeral thing called “inspiration”.  We want our art to be inspired so it can inspire us.  Inspire of course means “breath of life” or even “breath of the divine”. Unless we define AI as a life-form it cannot bequeath a breath of life.

I am convinced that compared to cost effectiveness and efficiency, this reason will also get a lot of nods, but little action.

 

So, here’s my ace in the hole. Warning: it’s probably pathetic

 

AI doesn’t suffer.   

Because of that it involves no risk. 

 

AI offers a type of perfection and what could be drearier than that? Perfection demands admiration not empathy. Yawn.  Maybe it can convince us it is showing us empathy, but if we empathize back it is meaningless.  MEANINGLESS.

 

In  these days of positive psychology, the stereotype of the suffering artist is no longer considered some kind of romantic ideal.  And for good reason, who wants to inculcate someone’s suffering (other than certain religions)? But there’s suffering and then there’s suffering. External circumstances like war and internal situations like major depression have a very negative effect on creativity, that needs to be made clear. But there are also little everyday types of suffering.

 

As a long-time college art instructor, I have seen the suffering of my students. I have repeatedly witnessed them being willing to risk embarrassment by or even worse, indifference to, a project they have poured their heart and souls into. They are willing to risk that a gambit might utterly flop, that it might be a stupid idea that they have sunk their last dollar and the entire semester into. They suffer the pain of making hard choices, for example “killing your darlings” .  I'm sure I could come up with more, but I am little pressed for time.

 

The problem of devaluing everything but the idea, (thanks Descartes!) is so utterly entrenched in the art of the 20th and 21tt c. that it makes it really hard to rehabilitate the value in anything else.  I really do think its time to stop demeaning the idea of labor and skill in art.  And to at least have a vague sense that maybe it doesn't matter exactly who the fabricator and what their skill level  is, but these things have a tremendous influence on the outcome: i.e. what you are looking at and relating to (or not).  Its time to remember that inspiration exists at the nexus of our physical bodies and our consciousness, they are beautiful inter-dependencies.  (The sooner we can prove that, neurologists, the better!)

 

Spending of time is worth something unto itself.  Maybe it represents a sacrifice of precious resources, a willingness to be inconvenienced to create something.  A way of showing love?  A way of showing UP.

While I don’t want to condone suffering, willingness to do so may be the secret sauce to what makes this all important empathic connection happen in art. How can I feel understood by something that has never suffered? Where is the value in that? The suffering, that is the willingness to do it, sometimes the hardest way possible, that turns it into a sacrifice.

 

But you might say “don’t sacrifice on my behalf, that just makes me feel guilty!! Who asked you?” But it’s not a major sacrifice. It’s not major suffering. It’s just a little stuff and stuff that shows that you’re willing to go that extra mile that you care enough to do that imperfection as a sign of that struggle is important.  This is the stuff that makes us proud to be human—that we can show up for each other and care.  So hey, let’s not outsource that, OK?

 

 *And remember, people, Soylent Green is people so there’s at least one use for us! 

 

Many thanks to Anjan Chatterjee for his thoughts on AI (Here)

Tattoo Flash

Scroll down to read terms!

Click to enlarge

I get lots of requests for tattoos. I love that! Dang, people want a permanent imprint, that is the ultimate compliment! Thank you! I love those that I have seen.

I am guessing since my work is out there, there’s some tattoos of my artwork I don’t know about. I would love to see pictures!

I have been asked on a regular basis for custom designs. Here’s the deal: no. But here are some things you might find work for you.

1. People can also use pictures of my work posted on the internet, pictures you took at a show, books, articles, wherever you encounter my work.

2. The drawings included in this post might be easier to translate than glass pieces and seem more “tattoo-like” to me. I prepared them with the intention of making tattoo flash. Also, people have been asking a lot for specifically for these botanical images.

The designs are free for your personal use. If you like my work, it would be lovely if you pointed people in the direction of one of my social media accounts (@judithschaechter) and please, please send me pictures, but that is the only payment I want.

The reason I want you to use pre-existing artwork is that I do not want to come up with fresh, new custom art. It is time consuming. It’s impossible for me to make a drawing without completely getting wound around that axle, overthinking it in 360 time-sucking directions. Perfectionism creeps in, and before you know it, I either get overwhelmed or it takes focus away from my actual studio projects or both. Even retrofitting existing artwork is distracting. When people say: “Don’t put too much work into it, just whip something up”, that’s impossible for me. So, I am not going to make something special just for you. Not even for money. Not even if I love you lots.

SO: Regarding the images posted here (or anywhere, actually), it is A-OK by me to have someone alter them to your specific specifications, specifically. Just don’t ask me to do that! Your tattoo artist may have some ideas about what would work best with your body, etc. That’s important.

Some of the drawings are black and white, go ahead and color them—or have your tattoo person color them or whatever, just don’t make more work for me.

Here are my terms—copyright is presumed, and it remains with ME. I own the designs. I am not licensing them to anyone. I am sharing for your personal use. I would object if someone went into the “Judith Schaechter Tattoo Business”. I am fine with sharing, but I want to be the one doing the sharing! I don’t want this to be stolen out from under me for someone else to profit from.

I am also not licensing the work. Again: sharing for your personal use.

I am basically OK with “use without permission” (it feeds my ego and means I am popular, BLAH BAH BLAH) but again I would probably object if someone went into the “Judith Schaechter Tattoo Business”.

As for modifying the designs, it’s also fine by me to just use a section of a drawing rather than the whole thing. These are drawings I made for stained glass projects, so they tend to be complicated.

Phake Photo Show!

 Covid taught me how to walk.  Before that, I rode a bike everywhere and my hip flexors tightened into the kind of rubber bands you associate with orthodontia.  During covid, something happened to my eyesight which turned out to be this.  I stopped riding my bike because my depth perception was crap and I started walking.  Soon my hip flexors sorted themselves out and the unthinkable happened.  I fell in love with walking!  

Second piece of contextual info: before UArts imploded, I was an adjunct professor of "Interdisciplinary Fine Art" (they had folded their renowned and fantastic Crafts Program in 2019, apparently the first of a series of giant heartbreaks associated with UArts, where I was employed for 30 years).  I was teaching a class called "Projects" and because it was a core class in Fine Arts, this included Photography students.  I had the great honor of co-teaching with such great artists and educators as Anne Massoni, David Graham, Shawn Theodore and Juliana Foster.

And anything I thought I knew about photography was eradicated during this time!  I felt a little out of my depths teaching photo students, but it is one of my fondest memories--looking at their works in Lightroom and considering what it means to make a decent photo. 

All of this to say, I have NO CLUE what I am doing as a photographer and I make no real artistic claims here.  Its just a "hobby" for me.  Here is a curated set of my favorite pics I have taken on my "covid walks" (and other things I have encountered doing goodness knows what).  They are things that caught my eye and seemed worthy of making a photo of.

 There are two other "photo essays" (i.e. pics that must be seen as a series because they don't really stand alone.  Ladies of the Pandemic and Philly Bouquets

CLICK TO EMBIGGEN!

Untitled

Smoking Kills

Nicotine Fiend

November 1

River

Fake De Saedeleer Painting

Urban Jellyfish

Untitled

Ridiculously Elegant Leaves

Jan 2

The Saddest Little Garden Ever

Arrangement in Grey and Green No. 1

Yorick Faculty Meeting

Bathtub Swirl

Covid Emergency

Charlie Brown

Stool

Philly Bouquet

Better Living Through Anthropomorphism

Magritte Facade

Last Man

Untitled

Cat Lady

Untitled

Snowy

Dead Baby Squirrel

Our Valued Passengers

Face Plant

Hospital Driveway

Symbiosis

Hail Satin