Made at the San Francisco Art Institute with my students, this tuneful picture transports the viewer to the planet Mars as three attractive teens seek funding for an expedition into adulthood.

In Nibbles, George Kuchar crafts a mini-travelette documenting his adventures around Cape Cod. Shot primarily in Provincetown, Massachusetts, Kuchar visits friends and takes every opportunity to sample the local cuisine.

Another holiday season rolls into the Northern California coast along with the breakers that roil and foam in mimicry of a "white Christmas." Men, women and felines frolic and fret amid the tinkle of holiday revelers as the short days fade into…

With various trips to the seashore, this summer travelette becomes an inner journey through mythical realms populated by rubberized horrors.

The New Year is upon everyone in Bay City. Music plays, strangers mingle, friends get raunchy and the calories pile on as the sky comes ablaze with pyrotechnic pizzazz.

The viewer is whisked through a lovely cat-house, which also includes a turtle along with the whiskered pets, and then is suddenly immersed in the painted output of my old (yet still young and vibrant looking) friend, Michelle Joyce.

In the second installment of George Kuchar’s Alumni Series, he begins with news coverage of the mudslides the month before that had resulted from the flooding documented in his Alumni Series #1.

Two gardens of plenty sprout with the seeds of bitter fruit made sweeter by the touch of summer, which rushes in with the scent of floral flatulence.

“This melodrama, staged by me and produced with my students at the San Francisco Art Institute, follows the turbulent journey of an aspiring singer as she flees a frigid environment to heat up a tepid career.

A collection of literary and visual art is exhibited in the home of a noted author who displays great hospitality to the horrors and kinks of artistic expression.

A pair of de-iced dove wings are on the floor next to his bed, states the poet who is deeply in love, and falling deeper, in this pictoral poem.

He is mute flesh that the stroking of fingers can bring to sing.

-- Mike Kuchar