Abstract gorgeousness mixed with Black Label Bike Club’s outrageous outlaw-dom, for your pleasure

I think a lot about how it must have been to grow up during the political riots in America, and yeah they were hippies or whatever, but it still holds a place in my soft body human heart. Well, the two things I am going to show you today have a lot to do with that sentiment. I am repping these works on paper right now at the gallery and I thought I would share them as my very first thatsplenty offering. Irene Lipton is one of sweetest, most gracious, hard-working artists I have ever met. She lives in an Airstream here on the Cape with her husband Phil and Jack Russell terrier Jake. She also does all the design work for the gallery, to great visual success. Hearts to Irene. Untitled (LP 502), 2007, o/c, 54" x 65" Next week, I'll be hosting a screening of the amazing documentary B.I.K.E. on Fountainhead, as in Ayn Rand's novel that I will not talk more about at the given moment. One of these guys in this film came to loft space in NA, MA and ate my cheesy puffs, if memory serves me correctly. I also skipped him in the joint rotation and it was a negative experience for all in the room. But I messed that up, it should have gone joint then cheesy puffs, of course. We’ve since made up and all is well. Bon Appetit!