The Slip Kid

The Slip Kid Up There (2018). Acrylic on Paper. Artwork and Text Copyright Danny Grosso

The Slip Kid wore his grandfather’s cap

as he wandered under the sun.

Slipping in and out of shadows and under the shade of trees

the Slip Kid imagined himself light as the breeze.

If as light as the breeze – I should fly he would say,

like a bird I could spend the rest of my day.

Then he slipped for a moment into a dream.

The Slip kid was in a place unforeseen.

Slipping into the clouds and out of the realm

of the ground dwellers he knew so well,

he glided about after awhile with ease

though he felt at first like a boat on uneasy seas.

After a while he thought he’d need something to do

so the Slip Kid slipped behind the moon.

What a great expanse he saw from there.

The planets and stars dazzled his eyes

and he took off his cap for a moment in reverence

until he felt suddenly lonesome and less adventurous.

He slipped back away and out of his dream

and the Slip Kid opened his eyes to a scene

as wild and beautiful and any he’d seen

while on his excursion to the upper extremes.

Green meadows and forests, lit cities at night,

and loved ones who danced about with delight.

Shadows moving along with the day,

sidewalks and pathways to direct the way.

All the things he needed to play,

so long as his imagination was allowed to stay.

So the Slip kid pulled down the brim of his cap

and slipped into the day and never looked back.

-Danny Grosso

More Recent Commissions

Untitled (2022). Acrylic, spray paint, and ink on cardboard roundel. Memorial commission for a client. Artwork and text copyright Danny Grosso.

Another recently delivered commission, this one honoring two of the client’s friends who passed away last year.

Danny Grosso

Galloping Spirit

Michael’s Boy (2022). Oil on Canvas, 72″h x 52″w. Commission for a client. Artwork and text copyright Danny Grosso.

The wildness of the being is as endearing as its obedience. The free flow of its fleeing mane as beautiful as its docile amble through the return gate. He runs wild. He returns happy. He rears up. He kneels in friendship. These things abide when he is gone, when the rush of his spirit buffets like the swipe of his tail passing by, and his voice comes with the winds of autumn and the rains of spring. A galloping ghost, once a gallant spirit, or maybe now always so. Pastures abound.

-Danny Grosso

Out in the Street VII

Let’s Go Buy a Restaurant (2020). Oil and acrylic on board. Artwork and text copyright Danny Grosso.

“Meet me on the corner of Rush and Walton” he said. So his friend turned to the left as he exited the parking structure and focused on the corner ahead. Sure enough, he was there waiting, on the corner, as promised. Strangers passing by heard a strange declaration, especially for the time; a time of uncertainty, and of plague. “Let’s go buy a restaurant” he said with a smirk. It was an odd thing to say in front of the building where they stood, where the eatery within had been boarded up and closed, but it was not a whim. They were going to buy a restaurant, that very day. As they walked past the barricades and plywood encasements brought on by the summer’s unrest, they retraced their steps in friendship, from raw adolescents to adult roommates, to now, business partners, trolling this same avenue for fun in the wee hours of countless nights. Two neighborhood kids trying to make something from this morass, this near nothingness, that presented itself, suddenly, awfully, this last summer of the regime.

Hope is often found in what is brand new, but sometimes the old and familiar, the dusty and worn can produce something similar. The world around them seemed wounded but somehow newly awake. The resilience of the distressed can be an inspiration.

Danny Grosso

192 East Walton

Time to Dock this Boat (2020). Oil and acrylic on board. Artwork and text copyright Danny Grosso.

When I’m pulling around slow it actually feels like I’m on water, which I am, of course – these streets are always wet this time of year. More than that, the suspension and the springy seats in these old cars provide a certain feeling of buoyancy. This classic barely fits in the garage, and is too big for the ride share triple parking on the streets now, but there is a certain majesty to its long, slow turns onto Walton Place. Drifting in under the moon and neon mix of light, top open to the elements; the lake is just a block away but it feels like we are already on it.

Danny Grosso

192 East Walton

I’ll Just Walk Over (2020) Oil and Acrylic on board. Artwork and text copyright Danny Grosso.

I know it’s cold and raining, but I’m already out and could use a nightcap and, really, what bad could happen…?

Part of the evolving exhibition at 192 East Walton.

Danny Grosso

Overheard at 192 East Walton

Just a Sip or Two Before Dinner (2021). Acrylic on board. Artwork and text copyright Danny Grosso.

“Sir, try this one, it’s a little soothing.”


“…Yeas, yeas, I know my dear, but let’s drop it for a mo’ and forget our troubles in these bottles…”.


“Forget? Forget?!!! You gotta be kidding me! There is war in Europe, Insurrection on the home front, and structural inequality everywhere, and I mean, the bombing will stop and justice will prevail, but if you think I’m gonna forget about the lipstick on your collar, mister you are sadly mistaken and oh my god this wine is good….”.

Danny Grosso

Overheard at 192 East Walton

Overheard at 192 East Walton, Center, Roundel (2021). Acrylic on board. Artwork and text copyright Danny Grosso.

The time before a restaurant opens is sublime, quiet and anticipatory, full of hope, and surpassed only by the frenzied euphoria an hour later. There is music to the clink of glasses, clank of silverware, pop of cork, and bassline murmur of conversation. There is rhythm to the dash of the servers, the loll of the diners, the sinuous stretch of the one, you know her, that always seems to be falling out of her dress in the middle of a room. The impromptu composition of all of this is our jazz, our evening song. Time to work, time to dance. The feeling begins, and then overwhelms. Give me a kiss and let’s do this again tomorrow night…

Danny Grosso

Overheard at 192 East Walton

Overheard at 192 East Walton, Purple, Left (2021) Acrylic on board. Artwork and text copyright Danny Grosso.

Counter-clockwise from lower left:

“Do you really think the authoritarian expansionism will gain a foothold once civilians become war casualties”


Silently, to herself: “Hmmm… I know these are really dangerous times but this conversation is so much better than the ‘What in the hell is she wearing’ talk that I seemed perpetually dragged into before 2016.”


“Of course not – not for any extended length of time. Tyrants always lose their grips on power when opposed by a reasonable resistance movement. But it doesn’t take long to destabilize and demoralize institutions. Speaking of which, Isn’t it grand to have this place back open and full of drinkers and diners?”


“Waitress – another round on your way back, please, but no Russian Vodka this time. I’m hoppin’ mad!


All three singers, harmonizing: “Don’t turn around, woo hoo hoo… Der Kommissar’s in town, woo hoo hoo… You’re in his eye and you’ll know why, the more you live the faster you will die…”


Silently, to herself: “I’m soo worried for may family, they are all in Kiev…”

Danny Grosso

Overheard at 192 East Walton

Overheard at 192 East Walton, Purple, Right (2021). Acrylic on board. Artwork and text copyright Danny Grosso.

Counter-clockwise, from bottom left;

“I can’t believe it’s been two years since we’ve been out like this!”


“Really? This one behind you has been like a barstool in here. She’s paid for enough rapid tests to secure the pharmaceutical company’s pension fund.”


Silently, to herself: “Oh, my God, I’m still so worried.”


“Hey Frankie! You’re lightin’ up the place!”


“This could be the start of something big, sooooo, dance away the heartache, dance away the tears…”.


“Can this finally be it, the start of the new roaring twenties?”

Danny Grosso