And on the seventh day, God said “¡OLE!”
This collage is a futile but fanciful, surreal attempt to capture the moment when a satisfied Creator gives the last strum in His Song of Creation.
The composition works along two diagonal axes: upper left to lower right and lower left to upper right. The central image slung diagonally across is of an acoustic guitar: its neck is formed by a classical column upon which run trains; linemen provide strings; the headstock is the outline of a conference table of men each of which is a tuning peg aided by ballet legs. Within the table is a steeple being erected within its scaffold.
On either side of the neck are black and white figures: Two boys on the right fire their slingshots; on the left an adult admonishes their behavior.
The top body of the guitar is outlined on one side by trolley cars riding over fossils. A fashionable hat and blister pack medication round out the other side of the guitar’s top body. The light of imagination, a lit match, can be seen through the guitar soundhole, sparking creative thoughts in the infant resting on a fan with cryptic symbols of the periodic table of elements.
The lower guitar body is formed by Rome’s pantheon. More linemen, standing on a sundial, pull cables across the guitar’s saddle bridge, formed by a Sumatran tribal chief’s home.
In the lower left, a jet-thrusted astronaut glove seeks to reach the hand of creation in the upper right across from it. And, sprinkled throughout, images allude to the wonders of the created universe.