Recently Mati and I have decided to institute a “Creative Trumps All” ordinance in our house. This basically states that if either one of us has a creative urge well up inside of us then that inspiration supersedes all present and future plans of minimal consequence (we can’t use this to get out of going to Aunt Mildred’s “Dancing With The Stars” themed birthday party). Despite my pleading that the Green Bay – Vikings game last Sunday was of dire significance to not only the NFL standings but also the space-time continuum, my wife stayed home to expend her creative energy. After watching Favre put on a televised clinic on “How To Make 70,000 People Simultaneously Cry” at a friends house, I made my trek home to see what my wife had created… but something halted me in my tracks.
Just like the horde of mosquitoes that have taken up residence on my front porch, I am attracted to light… especially neon. I don’t know what it is about neon – the glow – the buzz – the color – but I love it. And so when I saw a trailer sitting in a near abandoned parking lot in South Arlington with 60 or so lovely luminescent glass tubes all lit up and buzzing in unison I had to stop and meet Neon Glenn and his cavalcade of handmade works of art.
