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Artist Exhibitions:
Solo exhibitions
2002 Stepping Stone Gallery -
Huntington, NY
2001 Stepping Stone Gallery -
Huntington, NY
2000 Stepping Stone Gallery -
Huntington, NY
1999 Stepping Stone Gallery -
Huntington, NY
Two-person exhibitions
2006 Positive Focus gallery -
Brooklyn, NY
2004 Huntington Arts Council
- Huntington, NY
1998 Focal Point Gallery -
City Island, NY
Selected Group ...
Further Information
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Artist Galleries:
ART (that matters), Oyster
Bay, NY
http://www.artthatmatters.com..
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Further Information
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Artist Reviews:
Coming Soon!
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Collections:
Coming Soon!
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Commissions:
Coming Soon!
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Artist Statement for Rob Goldman
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Glimpses of the Luminous
The ordinary as extraordinary
Each divine
Photography for me is a vital privilege
Reflections of the fragile nuances of beauty
Finding their way through my camera
The fragile spirit takes wing
Without need
But unashamed magnificence
Of body and being
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In the deafening silence of a wood, she stands in prickly stillness, writhing to the rhythms of some distant past.
Shadows morph and spin and slide an enlightened design. Black turns white and spirit strokes her very being.
And mine.
A common shadow shoots a split second revelation and the infinite revealed. A transient blemish on the face of God.
If I, of love, and none else enter this place, I am gifted a hallowed glimpse of essential beauty. Still, I linger in awe.
Vision is my gift, presented and received, as this noble creature reveals tired arms, a beaten spirit, a broken heart.
Sit with me, listen, I’ll tell you my name. But only my name. The same you’ve kissed and dreaded in dreams, a thousand and one.
The heat of morning and yesterdays passed. Naked in painful stillness, I face this very moment and no other.
Face this moment.
Face this moment.
Her power overwhelms and she leaves me hungry, without voice. Paralyzed, I tremble nonetheless. So silently alive, hearts race and I wonder why I wait.
Still.
Reverent.
Daunted.
In protracted diversion, light swallows naked flesh. Sadness awkwardly smiles. And the chasm remains, and widens, and the dancers dance, and still I dream of yesterday.
The forest grows dim, touching upon the absence of self. Alone, like the tree I’ve named memory.
Still...
Afraid to die.
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