Michael Hoffee
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An arresting stillness settles on the many flowers of Michael Hoffee. As a silent volcanic eruption, they explode from their vase, always a steady, physical vase. Still, they look content in their duty to carry us back to an easy grounded confidence in the color and beauty Nature provides for it's weaker friends.
Hoffee paints his interiors amidst that same stillness occasionally rippled by the watchers of another door, opened always briefly. The watchers can be seen in his cityscapes and alone against the acidic air of the transportation world. At the table before them set, though, they are their most inquisitive, questioning us with easy stares focused on that ahead of us and the slanted tilt of a head full of the future.

outsider art

Michael Hoffee continued through the wasteland of my idiocy, patiently creating works, gaining power and energy without guilt. His flowers and interiors stew little over the past. Hoffee's cityscapes of towering figures watching us (more than their architecture and transportation clogged towns) keep their strange contentment a secret still. Despite my faltering allegiance and false pride, I'm proud of Hoffee more than I can think to say.