Mad Swirl

"We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men." Herman Melville ••• The Mad Gallery ••• Ojos Locos V - J. Gregory Cisneros Mad Swirl is excited to welcome J. Gregory Cisneros to the our visual stage with some amazing works of art that caught our eyes quickly. Cisneros creates work that has a[read more]

Mad Swirl is excited to welcome J. Gregory Cisneros to the our visual stage with some amazing works of art that caught our eyes quickly. Cisneros creates work that has a sort of complex simplicity (or simple complexity?), with line work that somehow manages to feel both casual and calculated all at once. He's mastered[read more]

Join Mad Swirl this 1st Wednesday of August (aka 08.04.21) when we'll once again be doin' the open mic voodoo that we do do at our new home, BARBARA'S PAVILLION! Starting at 7:30pm, join hosts Johnny O & Chris Zimmerly, along with musical mad grooves from ol' school Swirve- Chris & Tamitha Curiel and Gerard Bendicks!)[read more]

I saw her again today, following me. As I turned right on the corner, from a left-side glance, I saw the shiny blue of her shirt. First, she waited a few beats, hoping I wouldn’t notice, then continued slyly walking. Why is she following me? What does she want? She’s been following me for years now. I didn’t feel threatened or worried. Maybe she had something to tell me. A year ago, we came face to face at a drugstore on J Street. She trailed behind me, as she usually does, stopping when I[read more]

Yet as this new-sprung prince of undiscovered sterling qualities made to enter the immense cordon thorn lance-a-lot barricade the thicknightet hedge theurgically parted only to close again after his advance opening into redolent wild roses devoid of their prior barbed prongs. And even these sweetbriars bent aside and gave way until the now-present-prince found himself in my perfumed palace gardens where winds beleaguered not the boughs and all lay in a languorous lull.… Still I lie in the eye, the cyclonic eye, of the hurricane of my élan vital… my name[read more]

One The moon laid a strip of light on the dark ocean. The reflection was soft except for the crests of the waves catching the light sharp and white. The ocean seemed so quiet. "Nothing." John outlined roughly the shape of the moon. "You don't think it's a little windy out here?" He held up his right hand to gesture at the ocean. "Yeah." John was starting to get the feeling that something was off. "It's supposed to be the moon," John said. The wind blew in slowly. It seemed almost[read more]