As an artist, I feel that I am a seeker of truths. I express these truths, from my perspective, as I find them through my three-dimensional assemblages with poetry and true stories.

My gallery show, of 40 works, titled “Icons to Love,” concerns itself with the bittersweet that men and women bring to each other, in the process of finding romantic love.Together, we experience the, unrelenting, universal pain of Cupid’s arrows.

Author, Tom Robbins wrote in his book, “Still life with Woodpecker,” that: “Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won’t adhere to any rules. The most any of us can do is sign on as it’s accomplice.”

To ride with an outlaw, in my opinion, would mean being prepared for ANYTHING. We seem to be Lemmings when it comes to falling over the cliff of love. As a species, we are driven to do it again, and again, no matter what pains we have suffered in the past. We say, “I’ll Never Fall in Love Again,” but time-after-time we do, fall.

Too often, romantic love is, according to the novelist Thomas Wolfe: “A mad Devil’s dance, a little half-hour from love.” It can be sheer madness. Ultimately, I have learned, we are responsible for the majority of our own pain in relationships, because we fail to set standards for ourselves. We buy into the unrealistic notions created in popular songs, novels and movies. We tend to fall into illusion rather than into a mature, caring, sharing, loving relationship. Something must come before this idealism, if not, then pain will surely follow.

From my research and personal romantic history, I have come to the understanding that my pain is your pain, it is a universal pain. We all walk “The Ragged Edge of Desire.”

I will expand these thoughts in an upcoming book release

Review by: Griffin Waddell
Florida A&M American Art History, Dr. C. Micots

Taking inspiration from the likes of Robert Rauschenberg, Russian artist, Naum Gabo, and Joseph Cornell, artist K Wilder has created a style that seems to have transcended the genre of standard assemblage art, or collage, and has become something much more personal and real.

Wilder strives to create art that is not only precise, but unique to herself. While Rauschenberg may have been a starting point, the art style of K Wilder has morphed into its own domain. A mixture of both fine and graphic art.The use of crafted typography and uniquely chosen props are prominent, as opposed to plastering wet paper onto a backboard.

Each piece tells a story, deeper then one might expect, developed through background research, or even the interviewing of random individuals. The purpose of this art is not “Art for Art’s Sake,” but to relate and connect deeply with the world we live in. Somewhere in this show will be a “gotcha moment” for each attendee.

Wilder’s work shows a profound understanding that not all artists are bound by a singular style. The drive to venture out into the unknown and experiment with artistic thoughts, ideas, and values are what makes her body of work shine in a world that might not understand that, which is almost completely foreign to it.

Though “nothing may be new under the sun,” this does not stop adventuring artists, like K Wilder, from striving for new artistic heights and exploring what more there might be for those of us viewing their work.

Life is not about W A I T I N G for the storm to pass
but learning to DANCE in the Rain.
[author unknown]

Little Black Book: No. 46

a. She looks like Dolores Del Rio. I saw her first when I was about 11 or 12 years old. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen and have never seen anyone more beautiful sense. Even many years later—about three or four years ago, naturally a lot older, but still beautiful.

b. The few times I talked to her, in later years, she acted as though you were just as important as anyone else.

c. That which would make anyone feel good.

2. Fairly close. A clothes model, very pretty, good figure, loved anything that was fun.

3. I would have to say there were several. One was a gal I almost married. I dated her for many years. In between all five of her marriages. Another was a girl I went with a long time during my art school days. I often think of her, wonder where she is, if she had kids, etc. Another, my high school sweetheart. Everyone thought we would get married when we graduated from high school, but the depression came along which took care of that. There are others, I think of them often.

4. You remember them all from time to time. You hear a song from the old days, the 1930s and 1940s, etc. That will remind you of one girl or the other. My five marriage girlfriend, if she was on one side of the ballroom, and I on the other and the orchestra would play the “Object of My Affection,” we would make it B- line for each other so we could dance to that particular pace of music.

The same thing applies to others. A place, a picture, a little Mexican town, a certain city. It would be impossible to roll them all into one. It’s like going to an art gallery. Each portrait is different from the next. You enjoy looking at each one and each one for a different reason.

Little Black Book: No. 69
J.C. 43 years old
Writer/Producer/Director

My fantasy woman was created for me. In my dreams.

In my mid to late twenties I was dating a lot of different women. I wasn’t looking for a mate. Just a good time. I devoted all my efforts to my career and considered marriage a long way off. I always seem to be drawn to blondes. They represented something special. Slightly exotic. Definitely sexy. Being a dark-haired son of dark haired parents, blondes were a special temptation. Straying from the tribe, so to speak. To date one – to sleep with one – represented some kind of personal victory.

But in my heart I knew my ultimate relationship, my true fantasy, would be dark-haired. I started having this recurring dream. I was with a woman. Brown hair. Brown eyes. She was at once intelligent. Sophisticated. Smart. Funny. Sexy. To look at her filled me with a sense of fulfillment. Happiness. Joy.

I would wake from the dream, and though I could never remember exactly what the face looked like, I’d feel a profound sense of loss now that I was awake, because she was gone. This perfect woman existed nowhere but in my dreams.

I was lucky enough to find my fantasy woman. She walked into a casting session 14 years ago. I was stunned. She was the woman in that dream. No kidding. The same face. Smile. She was intelligent. Funny. Talented. We chatted, she auditioned and left. I turned to the associate producer and said, “I could marry that girl.”

I cast her in the part. We dated during the first week of shooting. She proposed, Saturday of that week, and 4 weeks later we were married.

End of True story: Little Black Book: No. 69