Started in 2008 in the front parlor of publisher Stephen G. Barr’s circa 1910 adobe bungalow in the heart of Downtown Phoenix, AZ amid the demolition of history in the name of progress…a neighborhood exhales a last dying gasp as the furnace light blows out and the last puff of smoke lazily emits out the top of the clay brick chimney and floats over the Garfield District across the 7th Street line of demarcation in this urban death waltz….enter Dr. Steven Strange on stilts and blowing fireballs at Chaos Gallery as he cuts the string and paper cup telecommunication line between the Urban Abode and AntiSpace and the Coroner wheels out that cat who made all that noise late at night and behind the abode is heard the “splash” of a carnival dunk tank….just then a dark sedan slowly comes around the corner with it’s lights off….and another…tomorrow a few pair of shoes will hang eerily above a blood stained sidewalk…the city eats it’s young.

The life inside the inner concentric circles of every city lie the core of creativity as expressed through full range of human emotions and extremities of experience. What used to be the outer area of the residential neighborhoods is now in ruins, crumbled, burnt, sagging and infested and occupied by society’s forgotten, rejected and ignored. It is from these people that the rawest, most refracted visions of artistic creations come forth and that is who and where we’re about.

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