Michael lowers the fly swatter like some gear-driven extension growing from his arm socket, sets aside his Woodcock Blue paint and adjusts his Saint Louis Cardinal’s cap. God is stalking a fly. I’ve seen him hunt down the tiny bastards before — here in his Claremont studio, at the Apple Pan in Los Angeles, at the Art Center in Huntington Beach, at Skull Rock in Joshua Tree, at the Charles Eames Studio, at the Quaker Religious Society of Friends.