Toadhouse texts revel in the luscious materiality of graphite and abandon themselves in the development of a personal aesthetic within the rigor of calligraphy. Their top to bottom reading allows their left to right reading to belong to a vaguely familiar and amusing foreign tongue. Viewers, readers, and re-readers become engaged in the multiplicity of language and the pleasure of the infantile sounding out of syllables and how that nonsense ends up with meaning. And with Toadhouse, meaning is a thing. His statements park somewhere between Eastern philosophies and bumper stickers. Grasping them usually inflates one’s social consciousness, not at all a bad thing in this day and age, crossing one back and forth between the realms of poetry, politics and aesthetics.