Photographing someone watching someone else photograph Starry Night. Seven eyeballs, four lenses, one picture.

If I hear, “this could look good in the foyer” — I am thinking business card; with apologies to Ryan Gander.

Rocks were skipped. Footballs were tossed. Three places photographed, here in one place.

To offend even the novice art goer, pronounce as “Van Gouge”… but say “Pick-a-So” is wicked superior (bonus points if you are wearing a backwards Red Sox hat, a polo shirt (flipped collar) and khaki shorts — flip-flops, natch.)

Father-in-law, artist Tom Hessel and yours truly, reflection in a Bacon (ignore the ill-placed meat.)

Schwitters… beautiful collage work, more dense and heavy-handed than I am used to (in a good way.)

To paint this, Nude Descending, and sign an upside-down urinal… all in the same career. Well done Marcel.

James Ensor with his unique use of paint, and unmistakable palette.

Red, yellow, blue… primary triad used quite differently… see Piet? Or… see Piet.

Picabia, how did you know I am such a sucker for typography as/in art?

Well well well, looks like Kurt has a little Figure Five in Gold fever… and the only cure is more directional light.

Kandinsky, oh how you color.

Arguably the best piece by Mondrian? Broadway Boogie Woogie — undeniably his worst title.

Inspiration for the Bomb branding experience, Magritte knows brevity.

That Andy Warhol… why not put a small silk screen of Marilyn in the middle, and paint the rest gold?

Two Elvises! Oh, how I fantasize about buying the firehouse where the first run was destroyed, and finding them beneath a floorboard.

Reflecting MOMA style.

Such a struggle on paper, so effortless in wire.

I see a Rosenquist behind me, and the people, they keep changing.

Poor Gorky.

Anticipation of a balloon.

Ladders for little ones, such a bright idea. So much work.

She’s like, “what, I couldn’t see either” to the kid whose view she just blocked (tall Dad advantage, sorry unborn child.)

It was a fun weekend… it was an eventful weekend. The Kool-Aid Man was there… oh yeah (no exclamation points.)

Buzz Lightyear punching some pedestrians.

Me and my Minnesota Bride.

You don’t judge a captain by his hat, rather, it’s the socks that count.

Sponge worthy.

Artist Paul Zepeda and his Columbia lady (not the country.)

Victory without a scoreboard.

Stunning woman.

Proper technique would dictate the quarterback release in the “falling on my ass” position.

Right. In. The. Bread basket.

Skip that rock Z.

My Dad and Jeanne enjoying a quite moment as they gaze upon Connecticut.

Love my ladies.

And the closing shot — my amazing parents, Kathie and Steve… remember, friends don’t take pictures of loved ones after seconds.