art — e andrew bartel

e andrew bartel

their teeth were biting emptiness

new york

out of many, one

1+1

salt, cedar, crash, and plum

a relaxing break, now with fewer rats

solitude

an eye made quiet with the power

slipping into black

the brighter the future, the darker the room

self

the red machete

running from the future

moments

my (broken) roman holiday

land of the free

disconnected

scotland