Meet Robo, the latest evidence of the superstitious spirit that underlies my work.

I was talking to a friend of mine last week and he said, “Katz, I really don’t know if you’re getting older or younger. I do know you’re changing all the time.”

I took it as a compliment but by the sound of his voice, it was more of a sigh of resignation.  I sent him a picture of Robo, but I haven’t heard back from him.

Today was the Robo arrived, a desk light made out of replicas of old plumbing pipes. I favor very old desk lamps, or failing that, very new and good evocations of them.

Robo is heavy, the pipes might not be original, but they are made of iron and are heavy.

I think Robo was put together in China, but I’m not sure. I got a pitch for him in my e-mail and I went for it. I need more desk lighting in my dark and cozy office and he fits perfectly into the dark corner of my desk.

I guess you’d call him retro, or maybe deconstructionists. He fits here. Light is like air to me, I can never get enough of it.

He might turn out to be a muse, I find myself talking to him already, and the light he throws from his nose and he sits close to me. In the dark days, every bit helps.

I know the study is getting odd – statues, crow sculptures, and now Robo, but it works for me. I guess I’m odd.