Gallery 10 marks the close of a phase of my life, and not a pleasant close: also, in the nature of it, not an end. Graphic artists are well equipped to deal with such: we freeze the action when and where we want, while our wordslinging brethren often litter the stage with dead bodies (too often their own) just to create some kind of "closure." Rimbaud can't stand Western civilization, so he chucks poetry to run guns in Abyssinia: Gauguin can't stand it either, but sends back magnificent pictures from Tahiti.
Life (and art) goes on, and so do I. My friends will know what I mean, my enemies don't visit Fractal sites; everybody else, relax and enjoy the pictures, I'm not (God willing) going anywhere soon.
Go back to Gallery
Or go forward to Gallery 12!