David Robinson

There is a dance of ulterior motifs that pulse below and swell to the interplay of mind, matter and time. The intuitive artist walks and tends the neural pathways into that deep realm; there to learn its rhythms, feed on its music, and smuggle back into the world whatever currencies can be found there. Strange artifacts too, from that strange land clutter his rooms. Catching the light as their shadows play across the walls, and in solar tempo reanimate the dance from which they were conceived.