Walk into the gallery, and the walls practically vibrate with joy. A poem that Zirker wrote a few weeks ago explains why:
THIS SKIN I'M IN THAT HOLDS AN
ANCIENT ARTIST'S HEART AND SOUL
THINS AND STRETCHES COLD WITH
EACH SUNSET'S DARK. YET, ONCE
AWAKE, A HORIZONTAL DREAMER
DREAMS UPRIGHT, BRIGHT LIGHT
SHINING COLOR, LINE AND FORM,
WIELDING BRUSH WITH CANVAS
TIGHT, SLOWLY MOVING, SHAPES
RELEASING FROM MY HAND AN
INNER JOY.
–Joseph Zirker May 12, 2018