Oils on canvas 24" X 20"
A.Reid explains “Two Can Water Nymphs Bathing In The Holy Waters”
Mythology of virtually all ancient peoples have depicted some variation of  animal, fowl, or beast heads appearing on human bodies. We have commonly come to accept the simplistic descriptive term ‘gods’ to describe such. Or at least the pagan gods of pagan peoples. The belief system of these ancients seems to include the unlikely hybrid creatures with the representational heads of animals attached to the idealized bodies of humans.. Mermaids, and winged sultry syrens, Egyptian neuters, centaurs, Minoan minotaurs, Native American Kachina, Lamassu from Assyria, to the Hindu god Ganesha in India are all examples on that theme which speaks to the peoples of different geographical cultures.

This painting of 'two can water nymphs' bathing in the holy waters of an ancient river reflect a contemporary retelling of this anthropomorphic thread in a somewhat modern context. Nature's stunning exaggerated and brilliant colored endowment for the plumed head with protruding bill of the tropical toucan are practically psychedelic and surreal upon viewing. This is evolution's means of attracting a mate and guaranteeing the longevity of this species among other considerations.The likewise exaggerated comely body proportion features of the human figure would suggest the same to those intent on procreation with a desirable candidate of their species.This might bring the viewer to ask, "What is idealized beauty to the tech-pagan of the modern epoch?". What retro-stylized value distortions are passed on to us in mutated form ? What might our gods look like today if they are extracted from our hybridized version of the natural world and grafted onto the beauty objectifying iconic features our society shamelessly promotes?
The spirituality lies in the eye of the beholder as we gaze upon the two-can water nymphs bathing in the holy waters amid their unconscious allure as modern syrens. They are not aware that they are being observed while bathing. Their attention is decidedly  off frame elsewhere. The swim suit artifice of the water nymph  most central to us is of a natural camouflage stripe pattern  to down play and disguise what it is designed to cover. The naturally occurring colorful stripes on the exaggerated shaped bill are certainly more noticeable than the stripes which appear as the modest adornment of the swimming attire. The viewer is thus left to ponder the nature of the gold necklace she is wearing  and what it might represent to the central two-can nymph who is featured in this painting.

16" X 20" Oils on canvas

A.Reid explains “Saturn Guide”
The reptilian hand of the primordial which carried us up onto terra firma from the watery depths is in counter evidence still as our guide appears with his hairless dome to gaze upon the present in our evolutionary narrative. Snug fit collar ring like the character, ‘Mort’, of “Bazooka Joe” bubblegum comics fame, he peers at the viewer inviting the reciprocal .
Swirling concentric planes radiate outward signifying the boundaries of personal awareness and experience. The certainty of death as spokesperson for those on the other side of the veil whispers to him in unheard hushed tones. Hearing is seeing into this realm...and the shadow is cast.
Whose vision of such can be allowed beyond the dimension of our comforts? Is it you or is it Eye? Gender-less we gaze.  The Eye of Ra as the ancients professed? Three snap rivets from the smock-like covering. The institution of religion may ascribe a holy three;. father, son, and holy ghost. They lead us like efficient punctuation to the Saturn Guide.

Oils and acrylic on canvas 16" X 20"

Step right up ! Come one, come all ! You won’t believe your eyes! The most amazing creature to have every been discovered by mortal men is waiting to be seen inside this very tent. It will illicit thrills and chills for all those brave enough to come face to face with the “Alien Space Dog”, set loose on our planet. College professors are speechless, the zoological experts are astounded. it might be too much for some of you to gaze upon this indescribable Alien Space Dog right here inside our tent. You’ll talk about it to your friends for years. Not for the faint hearted or narrow minded. Seeing is believing my friends! Gather around and step inside. We won’t be in your town long. When we are gone so will your once in a lifetime chance for this encounter with this strange creature from a distant galaxy who was once set loose on our planet. What if they come back to retrieve its mummified remains? What will the newsreels and press reports say then? Be a part of history. No pushing now. Step right up! Prepare to be horrified. You won’t believe your eyes!

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Alien Space Dog Mummified remains found

 Dear Cxxxxxxxx, 
 
 Regarding your inquiry that I received from silver member Hank Sxxxxxxxx, with my lodge, I offer you the following.

While following up a lead to a remote abandoned Blue Fluorite mine in Socorro, New Mexico, we were approached by an elderly prospector from Alice Springs Australia and his local native American guide who asked I not disclose their names. He said he had unwittingly uncovered some form of withered carcass that was near a claim he had finished working and was leaving for the season. He had been warned by his guide not to disturb the remains or the unusual magnetic metal chards that he'd found in the wash basin and stream bed below. Being the inquisitive rock hound that I am, I couldn't resist the chance to look for it myself. Two and a half days later I stumbled upon it by accident. Whatever it is was wedged beneath several boulders and I feared that I could not remove it intact in its delicate state of preservation. I enlisted some young men from a roadside diner to assist me. To my astonishment not only did they help me remove this mummified creature from beneath the rockpile, but told me if I was looking for such strange specimens that they knew of an 'ancient crash site' further up in the hills on the border of the reservation, but there were a lot of poisonous snakes and most local people were quite superstitious about going into that area. The young men had been so helpful with the first specimen that I decided to dig into my travel budget and fund our little expedition.

  Since successfully extricating these two creatures, which bear no resemblance to one another except both being bipeds, I have had a number of explainable experiences occur that are likely connected to one or both of these unidentified creatures. My storage locker has been broken into not once but twice. I began to receive a series of anonymous calls from persons who said that I must return these mummified creatures to where I found them before the next equinox. I changed my cell number and got a new email address. I have received unsolicited photos, drawings, and strangely shaped hieroglyphic lettering on oddly textured translucent sheets of unknown origin 5 1/4" wide X 7 3/4" tall. I had an unexpected visit from an armed services field agent who urged me to relinquish possession of these two remains to Specialist First Class XXX Walker at the XXXXXX Air Force Base.

  I'm just a retiree mineral hunter and gemologist. I don't want any further issues with this matter. My friends thought it best that I "go public" with this before it gets any crazier. If you buy them (just to cover my cost and expenses... I don't want the weird karma-), it is up to you to decide what you want to do with them. I don't think I was intended to 'own' them... maybe I shouldn't have disturbed them originally. You are pre-warned. I don't know if more exist or have been recovered. PLEASE DO  NOT ask me for a map or locations. This was more than enough for me. The 'experts' who have examined them all have different opinions as to what they are..or were.

Sincerely, 
R.L.Stevens
St. Joseph Michigan

Oil on canvas 20" X 16"
A.Reid explains “The Moai Seemed Contemporary In The Monkeyman’s Vision”
The Monkeyman was the only survivor from the ill-fated tramp steamer to wash up upon the remote polynesian shore. Gone forever from the grind of the organ grinder’s, he stepped upon the pristine coral sand like others had in antiquity. The existence of their distant presence on this uncharted island was seen in a large silent stone carved moai. What would that reborn fundamentalist evangelical missionary and his fanatic minions aboard the rusty steamer have to say about this encounter with the effigy? “Pagan savages creating their own gods for which to worship and protect them from all manner of evil pestilence, vice, rats and rot on this spot in the middle of the ocean.?... A graven image that is praiseworthy?”. Was it of a visitor who appeared from the heavens? Like a Star Trek crew member, or a coincidentally coiffed being, likewise castaway from its planet who bore a vague similarity to Elvis ? No, Mr.Spock. (The Monkeyman had been raised on television for socialization when not toiling to beg money for his organ grinder owner.) He had just died too, didn’t he? How could Mr.Spock die? He was a fictitious character, accepted by the faithful viewers wasn’t he? In his role the cosmology and personality were known. This might all be troubling for the fire and brimstone missionary who had met his watery rewards, or did he? But then how could the veteran steamer succumb to the pitching sea and take all aboard, less the Monkeyman, into the watery abyss?
 The Monkeyman looks around for evidence of others...or at least something to eat. There is an abundance of reef fish splashing about just on the other side of the surfline. They tease him with their presence as he has no means to snare them. He finds a sun bleached skull, but it looks like that of a lesser animal than a fellow primate. Was it someone’s meal or marooned here as well by nature’s fate? Had it starved too or died of old age with no one to inter its weary bones? And who to bury its remains? ...savages? ...cannibals?... headhunters who might have warred on each other until none remained? And for what, pondered the famished Monkeyman, the ability to procreate with the most desirous of the breeding stock? That was the motivation for survival of the fittest? The greatest of earthly rewards? The only guarantee of immortality? Regenerating the continuation of the species and all that is learned and known? But what about HIS fate? Poor Monkeyman, if there is no Monkeywoman on this island to contest for? What good are graven images of any hallowed holymen then? The missionary is no doubt mocking him with this thought from Davey Jones’ locker. He’d taken this mission to eradicate the distant islands of such godless lust customs of the nekkid savages.
 At least he is free from servitude from the organ grinder. Maybe that is the only wish he was granted. Better not ask for more. He might seem ungrateful before the stone sentinel god, or reasonable facsimile. Alright, if not a comely Monkeywoman, then at least a beauty of some warm blooded variety. She doesn’t have to be able to speak the same language or look like a perfect mate. How about companionship? someone? Some creature he could give a flower to or fashion a lei for. The Monkeyman had gotten to know a fellow in servitude. A stray dog adopted by the organ grinder boss. The pooch felt a closer kinship the the Monkeyman’s owner which kept the Monkeyman estranged and skeptical about any ongoing efforts by the dog to befriend him...and now if only he had it to do over again.
 Fever dreams from hunger under the star-filled firmament above were overtaking his monkey mind. At least a turtle can pull its head inside its shell at night. What might it long for? As long as the savages of these distant islands crave no taste for turtle soup. But what if they prize monkey flesh? What if he is an unwitting delicacy? Would that possibility cause him to live out the years he has left hiding from their island drums and tiki torch lit revelry? What kind of sacrifices might they offer the moai to expect good fishing, good surfing, good sex, or the good fortune of a washed ashore Monkeyman without any fellow passengers to come to its defense?
 It was hard for the Monkeyman to decide which of these fever dreams were real and which were paranoid delusions.
 He left the brittle skull in front of the moai for good luck as he wearily moved towards a glow in the distance. Tiki torches?, a bon fire?, a tropical lightning strike? was it the sound of the crashing waves or a distant drum? The crescent moon gave just enough light to look onto the sand and ponder if the footprints were his, and his alone.

"Fever Dreams" Series, 2015

"Lure Of The Modern Syrens" Series, 2015

"Gil T Dog & Jo-Jo Jumpco of the Ha-Ha Club", 2007-2010

Featured Art

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20" X 16" Oils on canvas

“Don't Touch”

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"Contemporary Freak Show Banners" Series, 2015

Oils on canvas 16" X 20"

A.Reid explains "Two Views Of The Inflated Expanses Which Haunted The Castaway"
Inside the cave on the island...and...outside the cave with a view of the island it hovered not being able to decide which cartoon was real. The superstitious  imp caretaker of the leviathan that the occasional tourists queued up to see? Its stuffed trophy flesh on display? Now don't you pout with a reddened eye. You can wear your inflated sense of proxy if you wish. Just don't let your good luck kitty kat pop your inner tube with its claws. It barely notices you anyway.
 You can wake the ticket taker to ask when the next ride should arrive to lift you off this eyeland. Inside or outside, you have to decide. Are you in or out? You're still beneath the stars, aren't you? Aren't we all?...oh descendants from Orion's belt. This old rock is just an eyeland after all in orbit around the sun. Darkness or nothingness or the watery expanse from which the Leviathan came. How big was it? Seeing is believing, isn't it? Ask the lucky ticket taker asleep on his watch. You might slip past without payin' your fare.
                  But will you get off the eyeland, Castaway?

Oils on canvas 16" X 20"
A.Reid explains, “Enter The Blue Bird of Happiness”
 The beloved magi had lived a long celibate life with modest comforts and was often the learned counsel to the youthful bobbysoxers who asked if the Blue Bird of happiness was true, or just a story of legend. He knew wisely the foibles of youth and how easily led astray they might be when confronted with benign temptation.
 So he answered them in seemly endless stories of lore which circled around the simplistic response to which they had begged.
“...Why of course comes the Blue Bird of happiness.” He concluded when they all but lost faith in his answer.
“ But how can you be sure? You are one who chose the path of spiritual service, did you not? Yours was not a conversion, but a convenience of vocation.”, the skeptical youth responded.
”That does not effect the presence of the elusive Blue Bird. It is simply so.”,the magi answered behind his seasoned smile.
“ So you’re saying it is a matter of faith, because none of us have yet seen it, oh celibate squire?”,they said with the vanity of youth
“There is much lurking which need not be awakened, which circles the blue bird, if your heart is true..” the magi spoke.
“An artifice for morality, demons and boogey men, fish stories, golden bear spirits, cunning serpents...denizens of the dark, and rhetorical nightmare mirages.”, spoke youth.
“All has its purpose, which is revealed in its own season.”, spoke the magi.
“ Ahhh, patience and restraint and yielding to the status quo. Really magi, you treat us like children.”, youth.
“The Blue Bird is always present. You will see. Only youth expects it to make an entrance when they make demands of the universe.”, the magi imparted.
“With that answer it is clear you are indeed corrupted and should be exposed as a fraud. You have grown fat and lazy with your hallowed position to counsel youth from the largess of the faithful.” youth responds.
“And thus enters the Blue Bird of happiness.”, smiled the wise old magi, content in his knowledge and compassion for the coming generation.

"Sideshow Gator Parts", Contemporary Freakshow Banners, 1992

A.Reid studio