The meandering ladder that cross from right to left in the brain carries the messenger angels from earth to the heavenly heights.  Busmantis’s sculpture captures the stages of change, the rootedness, the celebration, the pausing to consider and the congruence of Jacob’s dream sequence.  Resting an inspired head on a fistful of promises (rings, nail, blisters and even age) turns the nightmare of living into a dream. There is the quiet promise that morning brings.  As sister Winters put it, “hope is the promise of morning.”

It would be easy to discount the images as flashes across cultural boundaries.  However self awareness has been plastered on every sign and billboard and trademark in this tourist trap.

The building graffiti says it with blazing glory.

Between the art of Busmanti and the graphics on every building’s blank canvas, rejuvenation is the cat’s meow. The fingered paw clutches the fruit. The garland of hearts embraces the forever future.  The shield of armor protects more than a delicate underbelly.  The rings of beads frame the ladder laden head so the eyes stare past the moment into the journey, knowing that the unknown will scratch the surface to the known.