M. Jagger Moore
San Francisco, CA
A collection of “fine art” inspired by every red eye flight I’ve taken.
Forged in the germinal workshop of an intergalactic wordmonger, M. Jagger Moore carefully constructs copy with the piquant finesse of an Andalusian stallion and the dogged efficacy of an analog clock set to military time (batteries included). His brain is made of rose-colored gelatin and his fingers are fashioned from hot glue and popsicle sticks. He has never thrown a baguette at an unsuspecting Mallard.