No. 114. Craneman. Excited by his impassioned pursuit of the Art Train vision--perhaps over-excited--he decided to construct an image, a walk-in metaphor, for his creative euphoria. He would employ the crane that had lifted his locomotive high into the air. This time it would lift him. He loved the idea. The action would exemplify euphoria, ascension, rising above oneself. Problem-solving. His wife, Althea, however, thought it was a pretty silly idea. And dangerous too.

No. 113. Airship of State. He thought about his Art Train all the time except for last week when, in an unforeseen deviation from it--engendered by his watching too much Donald Trump on YouTube--he picked up a rusty, oddly futuristic, metal push-prop toy airplane he found on the sidewalk. and carved a large Styrofoam replica of it (despite his loathing for Styrofoam) in his studio. He was careful to reproduce, as well as he could, the airplane's rusty, pitted surfaces, and its aura of failed and crumbling design aspiration. The plane has a gruesome butterscotchy tone--like Trump's creaturely hair--and seemed to speak sadly, frighteningly, of aggression-gone-awry, of a festering vision turned inward, of the futility of living in a politically bankrupt, moronically material world. .