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Joe Rosenblatt is currently 78 years old & everyday he makes something – a poem, a drawing, a painting, a story and certainly a martini. Before I met Joe I didn’t know how to let my imagination loose to roam its holiness over the page in rampant fish and slippery demons and voracious angels and other manifestations of the cortex and blood and ectoplasm. I was afraid of sonnets. I didn’t laugh as much. Or comprehend how a child-like awe over the waves galloping like horses and dollops of sherbet and gilt acrylic on canvas and plush cats could co-exist with an ingrained grumpiness and the occasional bitter swipe at the past. After 45 plus years of creating art, regardless of the weather, he still stomps over to his backyard studio or to the computer and dabs and clicks and scrawls. Then stands back to examine the worlds emerging, chants out to hear the orchestrations evolve. To be an artist entirely in this society, he has chosen other ways of inhabiting the planet than that of typical accumulations and notions of superficial success. And every day, he says, “Hello there” to the strange & exquisite populace in his psyche and refuses to turn away until the conversation is done. & is it ever? See some of his unique art & writings here:  http://kenstange.com/nebula/feat014/feat014.html

by Catherine Owen