Tiki Tom is in the far end of the exhibition space when we arrive, in the black light room. Looking like a weatherbeaten, white Rastafarian, he's fussing with a set of banged-up hub caps painted in fluorescent colors over a coating of his secret recipe of faux-cement surfacing. More typically, his art's primary materials are the driftwood and beach glass and whatever other flotsam and jetsam he finds as he scours the beaches of South Florida, several hours a day twice a week for the last 40 or so years. "I see faces in the objects," he says.
Tom started collecting used hub caps at garage sales too, after they started to turn up on the sand, the mandala-like shapes irresistible. And just about any found object is fair game, like the bag full of medical waste including thirty or so used hypodermic needles that now radiate around a death's head on a black background under the headline: "Welcome to the Beach!"