For years I have collected old photographs that either had become lost from their families or simply thrown out. Some faces leap out at me and I bring them home. I exalt their images to canvas. These cast away lives (I know, it's a little dramatic) are given another chance to tell their story, this time with one word, coke, and a bag covered with colorful polka dots, the instant read symbol for wonderbread. These brothers have been to grocery, I believe they walked and whistled. They came back with coke, wonderbread and cigarettes. I can picture their day. Playing cards, sipping cold bottles of coke suspended with perfect, frozen ice chips from spending time in the freezer. The air is filled with lilacs, tomato slices fresh from the vine and mayonnaise spread thick. That is the story these words and symbols tell me.