Before 1863, art was predictable in composition, technique and presentation. There were rules to follow and if you wanted to sell your work, you got in line. Snooty French dudes (The Academy) picked the art for the annual Salon de Paris and were not impressed with most of the 1863 submissions. A bunch of nonconformist artists and styles were emerging and The Academy did not approve. They stamped the back of each submission with an R. Tempers flared, outrage ensued and Emperor Napoleon, a lover of public opinion, ordered “The Salon des Refuses” or “Exhibition of the Rejected” to be held adjacent to the Salon. Let the people decide. Panned by the critics and adored by the public, contemporary art was born.
In 2025 Florida, everyday is a Salon des Refuses. There’s a place about a dozen miles away where donated things go to die. It’s the last stop before the landfill. Sheri scours the thrift and donation centers for discarded consumerism: canvases, boards, easels, books, tissue paper, lamps, screws, velcro, bowling balls, wine racks, shell curtains, wood blocks, clock parts … It’s where pickers line up to dig through bins and boxes looking for stuff to reuse, resell or repurpose. If you go often enough and you have a keen eye, you can furnish your whole house and outfit your wardrobe for pennies a pound. It’s where we source all our art materials. We try to find appreciation in things rejected and present them in a modern Salon des Refuses.
Lucite and metal suspended in a vintage bowling ball.
Sheri wanted to hang a sculpture in the pool cage suspended above the water. It needed to withstand the Florida weather – lots of hot with occasional hurricane winds and rain. Heavy, but not too heavy, something that could be drilled into. Eric suggested a bowling ball. We found plastic rods. With no idea what they were, Sheri liked that there were dozens of them in varying lengths and sizes. Then, some chime rods from a broken grandfather clock. Maybe use a soccer ball to figure out a pattern for where the holes would go. Frank Sputnik was launched.
Handcut hexagons on repurposed canvas.
Color, creed and pronouns aside, people are made of all the same parts – heads, shoulders, knees and toes; eyes and ears and mouth and nose. A beating heart gives use and purpose. A closer look reveals stories, connections and points of view. We Are All One.
Acrylic and tissue paper on repurposed canvas
Unfit, ill-prepared and impulsive, the Story of Mt. Brown is the intersection of stupidity and ambition. Hiking in sneakers and shirt sleeves above the last of the tree-line into the alpine zone on Mount Brown, the urge to summit overrode common sense. Sometimes you have to burn it down to make room to grow.
Cellophane, spraypaint and netting on repurposed canvas
Pickleball is exploding across the nation. It’s a multigenerational pickup version of stand up ping pong. There are fun archetype players like dinkers and bangers, the thrill of landed drop and the agony of into the net. Paddles are cheap and community courts are free. Just don’t get pickled.
