“My brain is like five different radios, tuned to five different stations, each at full volume.”
David Buckingham roams the windblown alleys, abandoned factories, gritty industrial areas, dodgy neighborhoods, and low deserts of Southern California in search of the cast away, the discarded, the forgotten: old 55-gallon barrels, wheelbarrows, tool boxes, road signs, tractor parts, car doors, gas cans, etc. These battered relics are carted to a dusty studio in downtown Los Angeles where they are muscled into works of art with a bewildering array of power tools and sheer force of will. All colors are original as found; David Buckingham is no painter.
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