A meditative composition in curves and deep red - from chaos, order

Wood, MDF, steel

48" X 72"

Map of midtown Manhattan, Columbus Circle to the left, 8th Ave and Broadway extending southeast on this tilted axis. Studio 54’s location marked by an iconic female nude figure. The title is a play on founder Steve Rubell’s brag to the press that "the profits are astronomical. Only the mafia does better.”

Walnut, metal, leather, LEDs

77” X 48”

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An illuminated star map. The homes of Golden Age Hollywood stars, 1938 to 1954, marked on a map of Beverly Hills & Bel-Air, lit by LEDs, controlled on a toggle switchboard.

Brass, leather, walnut, MDF, acrylic, LEDs

78” X 62”

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Memphis-school architectural elements. Vintage magazines and postcards. ‘80s superstars including Annie Lennox & French siren Beatrice Dalle.

Wood, brass, aluminum, magazines, LEDs

72” X 48”

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Map of midtown Manhattan, 8th Ave & 54th St. Hand-constructed basswood buildings. Studio 54 as a lighthouse.

Walnut, basswood, LEDs

34” X 42”

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Painted wooden geometric elements over a collage of pages torn from magazines and books.

Wood, MDF, magazines, paper

36” X 65”

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Brass hemisphere strapped to a walnut frame by the artist’s own belt. Cork and leather accents.

Walnut, leather, brass, cork

32” X 32”

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Delicate machined steel against layers of laser-cut unfinished walnut.

Walnut, steel, pine

24” X 18”

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Vintage 90s porn stars cut out by X-acto blade, glued to paper with birds, in a cage of brass bars.

Steel, brass, wood, magazines, paper

92” X 30”

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Walnut veneer sliced in strips, threaded with clear acrylic rods.

Walnut, acrylic, LEDs

69” X 40”

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The artist’s belts and boots amid mirror, washers, and repurposed metal objects in a solid wood frame.

Wood, plywood, aluminum, steel, leather

98” X 28”

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Curved wood over cardboard, laser-cut MDF, graffiti homage to the Wild Style masters.

Wood, metal, leather, clear acrylic, spray paint

42” X 27”

Sold. $20,000. Private collection

Two-story architectural installation, full map of Manhattan subway, lines in stainless steel, all stations marked and backlit, streets cut in walnut plywood set on black cowhide.

Walnut plywood, stainless steel, black cowhide, LEDs

21’ X 5’

Sold. $75,000. Private commission

Images of punk concerts threaded along backlit Sunset Blvd, handmade Hollywood sign letters, lit from behind against a walnut plywood base, printed with satellite images.

Walnut, plywood, acrylic, LEDs

72” X 46”

Sold. $10,000. Private commission

The movie theaters of Hollywood, marquees in acrylic and backlit with LEDs, printed satellite images on brushed aluminum Dibond base.

Dibond, acrylic, wood, LEDs

72” x 48”

Sold. $5,000. Private commission

All the freeways of California, hand sculpted in two gauges of copper wire, stapled to burnished oak plywood, divided in sections like geometric tectonic plates.

Oak plywood, copper, staples

192” X 96”

Sold. $75,000. Private commission

Waterjet cut solid brass map of Philadelphia’s wards, set against black leather on a smoked mirror base.

Brass, leather, wood, smoked mirror

27” X 42”

Sold. $8,700. Private commission

Over 100 high-resolution satellite images of the Los Angeles Arts District, printed on walnut plywood over welded steel frame.

Walnut plywood, steel, acrylic, LEDs

96” X 18” X 96”

Sold. $11,500. Commercial commission

I photographed Dana, the barista at my local coffee shop, in my studio, then created this three-dimensional sculpture in MDF panels, wood, and lights. This piece debuted at Dwell on Design 2009.

Mineral stains on the underside of a concrete bridge on Sunset Boulevard in Silver Lake, isolated wings from the external sarcophagus of King Tutankhamen photographed in Cairo, granite Egyptian falcon photographed in New York, iris of a giant Pink Floyd plastic eyeball and beaded Alexander McQueen gown photographed in Los Angeles.

View from a midtown Manhattan hotel room, Kevin gazing into a giant plastic sphere photographed in Los Angeles.

Red fenders on a 1940s Ford pickup truck, custom bullseye Les Paul guitar, chrome skull on a motorcycle photographed in Los Angeles; graphic black and white wall covering photographed in New York.

Chrome sculpted head at the Los Angeles Public Library, motorcycle parts, 19th century silverwork, Cadillac fins, fish, fluorescent lights on the ceiling at a roller rink photographed in Los Angeles.

Ceiling of the reading room at Firestone Library at Princeton University; gold plated sculpture at the LA Times Building Lobby; granite statue photographed in Abu Dhabi.

Isolated sections of custom cars and trucks from Metallica frontman James Hetfield’s collection, rainbow wrap on a Tesla photographed on the street in Las Vegas.

Green mirror tiles in a now-demolished showroom photographed in West Hollywood; the Japanese Pavilion at LACMA, agave and succulents, isolated parts of a concept car, silver disc at the Disney Concert Hall gift shop photographed in Los Angeles.

October sunset, mint green Plymouth photographed in Los Angeles.

Bronze figures, smoke-filled sky, crystal skull vodka bottle photographed in Los Angeles.

"Spacetime tells matter how to move; matter tells spacetime how to curve." Around age 6, I learned that the universe is infinite. I also learned that it is expanding. What does it expand into? I pondered this question often as a boy. If the universe is black, maybe what it expands into is pure white, and maybe that's a realm of unidentifiable substances. I know nothing about physics, but I feel when humans make things we amplify, in our minuscule scale, processes that formed us and everything around us. This is the concrete latticework facade of the Broad Museum, looking like spacetime. This piece is Warp.

Lockdown gave me something all artists never have enough of: time. With nowhere to go, I took on the daunting task of going through eleven years of iPhone pics, 25,000 in all. I whittled that down to 22,000, then plucked out 800 favorites. As I did, I noticed patterns. I love to take pics of cars, vintage tech, modern architecture, and classical statuary. I do it everywhere I go: New York City, Egypt, Denver, Dubai & Abu Dhabi, and all over Los Angeles, where I've lived since 2005. This inspired me to use my own photos for a series of collages, and set them against geometric 80s-inspired landscapes that I created in Illustrator. I wanted to connect the past to the present through the windows of our souls, the eyes. I had a blast designing all these "goggles!" This collection is called Eyes of the Beholder.

There was a terrible show in the early 80s called It's A Living about a group of cocktail waitresses who worked in a restaurant at the top of the Bonaventure Hotel in downtown Los Angeles. After Studio 54 shut down, I guess my aspirations shifted to wearing a cute outfit and slinging drinks. Looking back I'm shocked how saturated my childhood was by the media. My identity came from tv shows, movies, magazines, and ads. I am the product of American consumer culture. The geometry here is inspired by OP, the must-have brand in my junior high. I traveled to Cairo and the UAE a few years ago and stayed two extra days to visit the Louvre in Abu Dhabi. As I flew home, it occurred to me I did that because of the name. If it was just "UAE Art Museum" would I have stayed? I pretend I'm above it, but I'm a slave to marketing.

"For God did not spare angels when they sinned, but cast them into hell and committed them to chains of gloomy darkness to be kept until the judgment." Apart from the Pieta, it's rare to see in classical statuary such deep emotional expression in the face. Even the pose is electrically charged. I liked juxtaposing this against a very airy background that might even be seen as playful. Fallen angels indeed.

In 1978 my family traveled from Colorado Springs to Seattle to see the King Tut exhibit. I was 8 years old, and I was profoundly transformed by the experience. The beauty of those objects, many wrapped in gold, gave me a sense of wonder, a desire to travel, and a fire to create. I had the sense, even as a young boy, that there was an entire universe of things that came before me, that I was just one element in a long line of objects and events in an eternal cycle of creation and destruction. In 2019 I was able to travel to Cairo and meet those objects again in person. These gorgeous granite figures stood nearby (they're not Tut's) and the full-circle-ness of it all brought me to tears. This piece is called Signals, lines of communication from the ancient world to our own.

I grew up in Colorado and when Joan Collins showed up as Alexis Carrington on season 2 of Dynasty, my world changed. She had a penthouse apartment with an elevator that opened right into the main room, no hallway. I found that, her accent, those shoulder pads, and everything else about her to be impossibly chic. I also knew there was no way that kind of glamour was happening in Denver, where the show was allegedly set. It helped me realize that one day I'd have to move somewhere else, which I did (France, Chicago, Los Angeles). She was every little gay boy's muse. I shot that vintage TV in a store window on Fifth Avenue last year. The marble figure, captured in San Francisco, is a boy, but the hair and pose are delightfully feminine, kinda like me as a kid. This piece is called On TV.

I love strong women. My architect dad designed the house I grew up in, but my parents physically built it together. Mom poured concrete and swung a hammer. When my sister and I were little, she took us to class with her, and got a degree in art while working full time. In her 60s she went back to school, got a master's in education, and became a teacher. This is Minerva, the Roman goddess of wisdom and war, protecting Sculpture, Music, Justice, and Medicine at her feet, in the form of babies. I see my Mom in this figure, and I placed her in a Delorean to capture the early 80s, when we were closest, and when I saw her for the first time as a person, instead of just Mom. This is Goddess of War.

Jeanne Antoinette Poisson, aka the Marquise de Pompadour, mistress to King Louis XV, patron of the arts, catalyst of the Rococo, hostess of salons with Montesquieu and Voltaire, a commoner made regal through the purchase of a title, this figure personifies my obsession with France, a muse for all who try to reinvent themselves. Like me, she was plagued with lung trouble; whooping cough as a child, death by tuberculosis. Here I've embellished her with a painted-skull-and-feathers headdress, a marbelized disc seen in Manitou Springs, and the dome of the Idaho Capitol in Boise, merging the French and the American. This is Pompadour.

Central to most religions is the concept of dying to the self. In Buddhism it's akin to detachment from desire. Islam literally means submission. In the Bible, "I no longer live, but Christ lives in me." Recently - and certainly during this pandemic - I've begun to understand this. As my ego diminishes, joy rises. As I place others above myself, anxiety recedes. When I am quiet and listen, beauty around me appears. Here I am using a religious icon not to express a particular faith, but because I have found, over the last two years, that as my "self" has diminished, my appreciation of everything else has exploded. The building in this image is a new federal courthouse in downtown Los Angeles. I passed it most evenings on my "Covid walks." It had a calming effect, like a physical reminder of Justice. There's so much I don't know, but the little nuggets I've collected tell me not to worry, everything works out in the end. This is Up Down.

Papyrus decomposes, books burn, film degrades, magnetic tape loses its charge. Our media is ethereal. How much information have we lost over the centuries? How many times have we reinvented the wheel? I think about this a lot, maybe because I was a history major. Compare that to a marble statue that travels to us through millennia with just a chip or missing arm. There's permanence there, which is what I think we respond to when seeing ancient art in museums, a sense that maybe what we do with our lives isn't so fleeting after all. This strong male figure, shot in Abu Dhabi, is as sexy to me as the brushed aluminum reel-to-reel player he's standing on. Fleeting permanence.

I am obsessed with Studio 54, the legendary New York City disco, circa 1977-1980. It opened in an old theater on 54th street at a time when NYC was broke, dirty, and crime-ridden. Graffiti covered the subway trains. Times Square was a hooker-strewn free-for-all. Out of the grime, this glittering disco appeared, a haven for sexual expression and hedonistic freedom. It was known around the world, thanks to a juggernaut press machine. That's how I, an 8 year-old boy, knew all about it in my quiet Colorado suburb: splashy spreads in People Magazine. I wanted to grow up immediately and join that party. Last year, the Brooklyn Museum of Art hosted a comprehensive exhibit on Studio 54. These red tights, displayed on a mannequin, are from Halston's Winter 1978 collection. The face is an iPhone pic of a model in a 1979 edition of Cosmo I bought on eBay. The suit of armor was shot in Abu Dhabi. I've pieced together my glamorous disco fantasy, clad it in steel, and wrapped it in Memphis school geometry. This is Suit of Armor.

I wrote my thesis on the development of planned obsolescence and the advent of mass culture in America in the 1920s. Part of it was about how light bulbs don't really have to burn out, some of it covered how GM invented new body styles to make your perfectly good car look old and undesirable, and a little of it was about mass advertising. None of it was very good. I tried to pick a subject I was interested in, but it wasn't enough. I got a B-minus. What was really true is that I have always thought old cars are sexy, and I've been taking pictures of them for decades. This matte black beauty was in an alley downtown. I chopped the top to make room for the horse, and his buddy Poseidon. This is Fins.

The only class I really remember from Princeton was Sex & Gender in the Ancient World. We read plays, looked at art, and dug into Greek and Roman views on sex, gender, politics, and culture. In the play The Congresswoman, Aristophanes lays out what ancient Greeks thought would happen if women gained control: shared property, sex-on-demand from the men, and eventual chaos and collapse. Until I was 12 I was often mistaken for a girl. Since the 80s, when we called it "androgyny," I've always loved unconventional gender expression, especially David Bowie. Now, it's all so different and I'm a dinosaur but I take comfort that the ancients pondered similar questions. These Greek figures look ahead, like us still feeling our way through sex and gender in the modern world.

If you saw a stack of plastic chairs outside Home Depot, would you stop and take a picture? How about ten pics? Would you take a series of pics of the different chair colors? How about if you walked into a fancy restaurant and looked up and fell in love with a giant light fixture? Would you stand directly under it and take like twelve pictures until you thought you were capturing the geometric center, with people walking by? I do that. I've done that for eleven years. The smartphone camera is one of the greatest inventions of my lifetime, and that's how long I feel like I waited for it. I hated film, buying one kind for daylight and another for "tungsten," waiting on development, no way to resize images at home. I'm a mixed media artist, not a photographer, and this whole collection is me celebrating a technological innovation that allows me to create collages - one of my first loves - out of anything I see. It's a great time to be alive.

I designed this house in 1996, at age 26, while working the midnight shift at a telecom job. At 27, while working swings, I built it, acting as my own general contractor. Mornings I’d drive 20 miles from Colorado Springs to the job site in Palmer Lake, work on the house, then head another 40 miles to the job in Denver. I took showers in the basement, then started my shift at 2pm. At 10pm, I’d drive 60 miles home, sleep, and repeat. It took a year to get the house closed up, then I moved in and over the next few years, finished all the interior millwork and built-ins.