clipped from www.artinfo.com

ARIPEKA, Fla.—It’s a sultry summer morning in Aripeka, a dot of a town on the marshy Florida coast around an hour north of Tampa. From the blanketing humidity to the hazy orange sky to the old trees dripping with dun garlands of moss, everything about the scene suggests a certain swampy languor. Yet at the end of a long driveway, inside two mammoth buildings, James Rosenquist’s busy studio is already open for business. Or almost open—first there is coffee, strong and milky and ferried in a saucepan from the nearby main house by the artist himself.