Imagine a world where behind every suburban front door is a licentious bacchanal. Except that you don't have to imagine it because John Cuneo has imagined it for you. Whether it's ram-headed, alcoholic, paperpushers; hand puppet sex parties; or Hokusai's insatiable octopus (who turns out, knows a thing or two about the saxophone), Cuneo renders each intimate tableaux with delightfully feverish pen strokes and delicate watercolors. Like Aesop's deranged cousin, the artist effortlessly combines the fantastical and the grotesque, dashing off outrageous snapshots of bulbous heads, dapper cats, muses depicted as gargantuan Crumbian women, and a multitude of sex acts invented for the occasion. Say what you will about the intentions, the effect is a pearl-clutching, monocle-popping, knee-slapping graphic revelation.
