Where Tiki Never Dies

You’ve seen his work, or maybe you dream in Tiki, with rich, bold colors and James Bond villains’ lairs. Mid century Palm Springs by starlight, trays full of martini glasses for the out of town guests, as they dangle their cigarette holders, and sway in the Sinatra breeze. Long hoods over V-12 engines, tail fins underneath neon sky. Bikini girls lounging by shimmering pools, welcome to hula heaven.

Shag is where cool comes for a drink. His art makes you want to live in a dream of vivid colors and impossible shapes, a place that could only exist on a canvas or in an unfettered imagination. Yet here it is, lots of it, wall to wall in a booth of an exhibit at DesignerCon. And the artist himself is here, grinning, signing, talking to his fans who drop in. What a lucky break to drop into this scene, to meet one of my heroes of illustration, to have a conversation and share a laugh. Everybody wants to come to his studio, to photograph the artist at work. I make the suggestion, regardless. There’s a place in the desert where tiki never dies. And I want to go there and capture it.