In 1986 I was twenty-two years old with a commission, a skill saw, and a geometry proof running through my head.
The Last of the Diving Horse Girl was my first major site-specific installation. Six custom panels — acrylic on canvas, wild and gestural, Pollock-inspired — set into a custom frame and cradle system I designed and built myself from pine. The whole installation cascades diagonally up a two-story foyer wall, eight and a half feet wide by eight feet high, following the sweep of the staircase it lives beside. And then there is the triangle — a long, tapering spine that runs from four inches off the wall at its base down to a quarter inch at its tip. I cut that taper with only a skill saw. I was twenty-two. I didn't know yet that it was an extraordinary thing to do. I just knew it had to be right.
The title came from a newspaper article I remember reading around that time. Atlantic City was hosting what they called the Last of the Diving Horse Girl — an act in which a woman sat atop a horse as it leaped from a pier into the ocean below. Wild, terrifying, alive. I wanted to capture that dialogue between the Dionysian and the Apollonian — the raw gestural energy of the horse and rider in freefall, held inside the most precise geometric frame system I could build.
I etched the RAG Angle into the surface of the acrylic — a trisected angle I had originated in high school, named for my initials, Robert Anthony Girandola. A geometry proof hiding inside an abstract painting. Order inside chaos. It seemed right.
Forty Years Later
Last spring, the collector who commissioned the piece in 1986 reached out. He had moved to Connecticut years ago, taking the piece with him. He thought it might need some attention — mostly the pine frame, which had aged as wood does. He was right.
I drove up to Connecticut, inspected the work, and brought it back to my studio. I spent weeks on it — re-sanding and refinishing the wood, repairing discoloration in the wood putty, perfecting the nail settings in the frame and cradle. I applied a clear coat to the acrylic paintings to protect them going forward. They were fundamentally sound. Forty years and they were still alive.
I hung the piece temporarily in my neighbor's home — she has a nearly identical Toll Brothers foyer — to photograph it properly and make sure the reconfiguration was right before returning it to Connecticut. Standing in that foyer watching it go up again, I felt something I can only describe as recognition. The piece knew where it was.
When I reinstalled it for the collector, we hung it together. He handled every panel with a quiet care that said more than any review ever could. Forty years. Still loved.
What Comes Next
My neighbor, watching the piece go up in her foyer, realized her own wall had been waiting for something. We are now collaborating on a new site-specific work for her space. The Diving Horse Girl has a way of making people see their walls differently.
And I am thrilled to share that Robert Girandola Studio will soon have its first physical retail presence — a space at Shops on Mill on historic Mill Street in Bristol, PA, opening in May 2026. Prints, original works, hardcover and softcover editions of Over Dinner & Other Strange Enchantments, and a line of clothing and objects inspired by the book — pajamas, pillows, t-shirts, limited edition tote bags. A place where the studio meets the street.
More on that soon. For now — The Last of the Diving Horse Girl is home. And the work continues.
Follow along at robertgirandola.com and @robertgirandola on Instagram.
Over Dinner & Other Strange Enchantments is available now on Amazon.
