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or, new addition to old studio. 
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 http://mikegeno.com/The%20Bacon%20Show%20-%20postcard.pdf http://citypaper.net/blogs/mealticket/2009/11/02/the-bacon-show-opens-at-mew-nov-7/ [0] comments
5x7 cm   This new series called Pancetta Paintings are a synthesis of the “Meat Paintings” and “Pocket Universe” paintings. They are life size portraits of meat, and so studies in mortality and consumption. They are also, as the Pocket Universes are, conceptual: An intimate objectification of infinity. The Pancetta Paintings are pieces of actual humility. Figurative and abstract, fleeting mortal reductions. Their life, like a photograph, consists of the instant of their exposure and imprint. Then they dissolve. They are Snowflakes of pork, ad infinitum. There is nothing iconic here, they are just pieces. The subject for these seven pieces was guanciale form Corsica. The paintings are in oil on stretched canvas, 5 x 7 cm each. 2009. [0] comments
 My book of poems, Ghost Songs, was just published by Casagrande Press. It is now available from online booksellers, and at the Anglo American Bookstore in Rome, Italy. Thanks for buying a copy. William Pettit. Ghost Songs. Casagrande Press. ISBN-13: 978-0976951667 publisher's website http://www.casagrandepress.com/william-pettit-poems.html This book was written in 2001-2002. To see more recent writing and more info on Ghost Songs, select "This is My Land, Second Season" above. and http://selffantasy.blogspot.com/ [0] comments
2 of the 40 scattered night skies at the Ri...Galgata Show, 2009, near Gubbio (see below). Installation of 40 pieces, 4 x 6 cm each. "Pocket Universes" 2nd series.  
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 On Starry Skies What do we look to the sky to but Transcendence & destination, Both destiny and guidance Night is coming to terms, and discovering magic roads to the end and beginning They marked many a passage, united seafarers Making Jesus and Ra somehow kings of some under so I made it so I can hold it It’s hot, It passes too quickly, and one turns cold and another fades away. I wish, scientifically, I could explain or wish away A Doubt of Facts But Often I dare not face it. Infinite, yes, massive against our Who-chimes A tin beep in the pulse of a flea, dear To Humbug and Pooh brought these little Things you can’t eat, un-sweet windows, like the lake that stares back To you like out at sea. Any Thing can Only be about the Past everything I own is A gift. The stars that night you and I didn’t sleep and skies were one forever On a balcony, on a golf course, just running drunk with you, (blind,) through “Campo” Or on a lonely eclipse You watching soaps the end and the beginning in English and Spanish skyward, pulls out of that heap . Who wouldn’t jump? In the drift, splattered caring and scattering Our unusual particles of defied reason Somehow resettle and make me and make, naturally, you Quite right—to fill with emptiness, sure I understand your fear, but listen: it’s like a campfire Glowing solace for the innocent and The damned cowboys Bodies telling bodies what words have already [0] comments
for the old site, choose "View All" or select a category. For artwork, scroll down. [0] comments
A Fortnight, 14 night skies. 7 years of nights ago, made. carbon paper on wall. curved space. 
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