"Kennedy drives the clown car. I just built the road"
This ceramic tableau destabilizes objecthood through the jarring juxtaposition of culturally loaded forms—a souvenir bust of John F. Kennedy, a rubber baby doll head, a tractor, and a stick. Slip-cast and arranged within a semiotic whirlwind, these elements resist fixed meaning, gesturing toward a post-materialist sublime. The Kennedy bust, suspended between portrait and parody, becomes a ghostly echo of mid-century American myth, stripped of context and coherence. Paired with the doll’s plastic innocence and the tractor’s nostalgic industrialism, the stick interrupts—an ambiguous nod to nature, discard, and rupture.
Straddling the line between diorama and altar, the piece invites intimate, bodily engagement. Its scale encourages both forensic scrutiny and childlike wonder. The artist’s refusal to impose narrative order is a deliberate act of aesthetic rebellion—this is not assemblage, but assemblotic rupture; not sculpture, but sculptural hauntology. Meaning is elusive. Interpretation collapses. What remains is a monument to mystery, absurdity, and the sacred futility of knowing.
Or maybe it’s just a funny little clown car driving down the road.
Measurements: 17½" long · 6" wide · 8" tall $