Mixed Media (original oil on hardwood w/ found objects and narrative) 'Cold steel bit deep into Geaudeux's palms as the brash young dodo tightened his grip on the wheel. He conjured a word, aimed it at the open road ahead of him, then growled one of the most sagacious rejoinders ever heard, a perspicacious response to the grandest of all circumspections -- Maybe. Alert yet simmering with a faintly fervent ardor, Cordelia Bungee thought to herself, maybe? maybe not -- half-echoed by Don Juan Lagarto as he leaned over the door of his '37 StutZootrope and hissed back at the dodo, "Maybe not, bird-boy!" In a collapsing ellipse of thought Geaudeux suddenly realized the meaning of life is not a riddle to be solved: Life simply is. He could invest his life with meaning and allow the ambiguity of it to ride along as a blessing in disguise. If he were absolutely certain about all things -- like winning the race AND Cordelia -- Geaudeux knew he would have spent his entire life in restless agony, fearful of losing his way at every turn. But since anything is possible, the seemingly miraculous lies within reach and wonders shall never cease. The ever-expectant little dodo believed that true freedom may be stated in one word, which served him best as a big brick propping open the door of existence: Maybe. -from the diary of Pellegrino Puffin. copyright 2008 Patrick Pierson