MetroCards. Usually we swipe them in a hurry as we pass through the turnstile, hoping we haven't missed the subway. Or dip them as we enter a bus, hoping there's still enough money on them to pay for the ride. But we barely notice them; they're as omnipresent and invisible as pigeons. I stopped to look at them one day and haven't looked back yet. In their limited palette, I've found an expanding world of images, colors, ideas. Mosaics, collages, portraits, abstracts, constructions, dioramas, combination drawing and collages, all these keep pouring forth from this little object, not much bigger than two by three inches. Some of the pieces are the exact size of a MetroCard; others cover large sheets of papers; still others are structures, made of perhaps a thousand MetroCards. Finding the cards to use is part of the experience. And perhaps because I'm from New York, and this is my world, without setting out to, I'm creating a world from one of its iconic symbols, taking apart and reassembling it, making it mine and sending it forth before the MetroCard itself vanishes from our lives.