Art you can wear, place on the wall and stare long and hard at. It lead you to planet mambo bongo, a satellite of barbarella. A land where the cocktails never stop flowing and the hammocks are forever swinging, whilst primitive musical sounds of buzz saw guitars, double bass, exotica bird calls and crooning twisters, lithe and wired, ease the sweaty brow of the intrepid explorer into a land of excess.
Lux and Ivy, the official tour guides only accept those who can pass muster, so out go the trainers and sportswear. In comes Eric Stantonesque guys and dolls, John Walters Cry Baby youngsters, gum and tude are the oral fashion excesseries not coke and vodka. Irving Claw babes and winkelpicker boots rumble to the tumble in a technicolour clothing cascade.
The posters lead back to Vegas in cream, red and black, the colours of a Rod Sterling outre world. A roadmap to a world forgotten and diminishing, as the retro future becomes a beige form of orange. T book illuminates a hidden map, a discovery of a land of fetishistic excess.
V8 engines and wild wild women will inhabit your dreams as the primitive past is resurrected in the present. It is only through imagining dreams that we can re-enact them within the present.