| Fever Pitch is a visual crescendo—where superstition, motion, and symbolic tension converge in a single commanding figure. At center, a woman strides forward with purpose, surrounded by a hovering ring of roses. Traditionally symbols of love and beauty, the roses here feel ceremonial—part crown, part target.
Encircling her are silhouettes of horseshoes and hand grenades, referencing the expression “close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.” It’s a phrase rooted in proximity and partial impact—where near misses still matter, and superstition thrives in the space between what happens and what almost does. The horseshoe, long considered a protective charm, is mirrored by the grenade: a symbol of rupture, volatility, and latent threat.
From her entrance point, jet fighters stream outward in silhouette—suggesting speed, aggression, and directional force. Around her lower body, a warped zoetrope loops a man throwing a baseball—drawn from Edweard Muybridge’s
Studies of Animal Locomotion. The motion is mechanical, obsessive, and emotionally ambiguous. It evokes ritual, sport, and the tracking of cause and effect.
Fever Pitch amplifies its contradictions. A canvas of symbolic escalation, where superstition is not quiet belief but kinetic tension—charged, choreographed, and emotionally volatile.
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