I walked out one day, onto a parking lot, and there it was: one of the strangest mushrooms I have ever seen. Mind you, I used to pick these things as a child, up in the Alps, first with my Grandpa and then by myself. Our harvest used to be so abundant that we would dry them, store them in jars and continue to eat the best "Risotto ai Funghi" through the winter, and this went on for many years. I must have started this activity when I was very young, because I remember that tourists would hire me, as a shy, wiry, skinny 8 year old forest dweller with a stutter, to guide them on mushroom picking hikes and help them avoid the bad ones, so that no one would get poisoned. Later in life, I have even risked a bull's wrath, in order to witness the sudden, somewhat magical appearance of the famous hallucinogenic mushrooms growing out of cow dung at dawn, in the rain forest of Ecuador and Peru, and those are only visible for a few seconds, because the birds eat them as soon as they emerge. One could say that I am a bit of a mushroom expert, from these and many other encounters I had with these odd life forms. But this one, growing in one of the most prosaic places on earth, a parking lot in Northern New Jersey, this one had me mesmerized. I had to photograph it quickly. Somehow, I knew it wouldn't last very long, and I was right: it disintegrated almost immediately. What made it so unusual is not only the fact that I had never seen it before in a suburban ecosystem, but, most of all, that it wasn't just one individual. It may be hard to see in the pictures, but this was actually a sort of mycological trinity, joined at the head in a colorful display of communal decay that rendered the whole thing ghastly and fascinating at the same time. I have not encountered this kind of "mushroom meltdown" since, nor do I expect to find similar displays of decay anytime soon and I'm glad I can share my discovery with the world, through this appropriately titled EBSQART show. It's my way of honoring Art Decay.