It was mid-pandemic. I was home alone, in maga territory, in a cottage by the shore, with two small dogs, and a lot of paint. It was the first time I was home for more than 2 weeks in years. The weeks turned into months. It was incredible. I did not miss my 80 mile a day commute, fellow LIRR riders, or anything about the day job, but I did miss my friends who took lockdown as seriously as I did.

I began painting people I admired to keep me company. I used the slate roof tiles from the Kings Park crazy house. A perfect canvas, from a haunted location, for a difficult time. The symbolism of broken shelter perfect for mid-pandemic images.