My theory is that the minimalist art movement began in the suburbs, with a tired man who was wild in his heart and deprived in his senses.
copyright@2006 Jeff Beddow

I am glad for this excess and wanton green. It contains me, but does not obey me. It is the mirror of my wife's soul. What I see, when I look into it, is the very texture of love.
copyright@2006 Jeff Beddow

The crown of a suburban king hangs heavy on my head, and insolence is the fruit of my garden.
copyright@2006 Jeff Beddow

The decay of my eaves is an object lesson in time, mortality and pride for me. I sit in my chaise lounge with my beer and rehearse the lesson: 1. time, 2. mortality, 3. uh....what was the third thing again?
copyright@2006 Jeff Beddow

This is my window. If it were your window, you would look more closely. All communication depends upon the narcissim of the audience to succeed. If you can't see yourself in the window, why look? Wait, is that you in there? Hey, who invited you over?
copyright@2006 Jeff Beddow

This tree: it cannot make up its mind what direction it wants its branches to grow. Sometimes they seek the sky, sometimes they follow the rifts in the earth's energy fields. Sometimes they follow a sharp tailed swallow, sometimes they follow a kiss escaped the kitchen next door and wafting over to this fool, here.
copyright@2006 Jeff Beddow

Sometimes our backyard pictures look like evidence in a trial. We are accused of disorderly nature, and found guilty.
copyright@2006 Jeff Beddow

This is the second year we have planted basketball bushes under our deck. We water them with gasoline, and in the fall harvest them in the darkness wearing Knick's jerseys. You think this is strange, but you haven't tasted our fresh picked basketball jellies. They slam-dunk your palate, and set your face on fire.
copyright@2006 Jeff Beddow

We brought thousands of bricks here, and felt haste to build them into something plain and square. When we went home, we looked over our shoulders, and saw the ugliness was gaining on us. We broke into a run. It didn't help.
copyright@2006 Jeff Beddow

Sara has discovered flight. It is like being born, although to a smaller world than the world in which she dreams.
copyright@2006 Jeff Beddow

What a prim face. The distance between this buttoned-up Victorian mask and the truth of animals mating contains a long novel about the family farm in America. The last chapter reads "What we brought forth from the soil, we brought forth from our bodies. The end."
copyright@2006 Jeff Beddow

The sky is kissed by big barn lips.
copyright@2006 Jeff Beddow