My art is a crisis of criss cross addictions, to facets of faces, from facts into fiction. A steady slipstream of whimsical quips, of tightening focus to loosening grips. Subtle barrages of middle finger flips, a punch in the nose, a kiss on the lips. A chamber of torture with morphine drips, a passive aggressive acid trip through the mine fields of passion, that digressions unzip... Peeping Tom confessions and manic solo missions performed without practice or permission slips