Statement for the War Paintings:
Crouched in a deep squat, hands encrusted with black and white paint I squeeze paint straight form the tube. Squiggling the thick emulsion in a bold rhythmic pattern. Then I fold, corner to corner pressing, SQUISHING. I may then squish the piece to another, transferring a butterfly wing print. This squishing process may repeat a few times before paint is scraped and moved by knives, I may then cover the page in a deep watercolor wash , smearing and incorporating still-wet black and white paint into an angsty amalgamation. I scrape, squish, smear, squeeze and scribble my way to catharsis. Digging with big fat crayons into rough, mountainous surfaces.
Through these works I can channel my most hideous thoughts and feelings; the crushing anger that threatens to destroy me.To take the most horrid, abysmal aspects of my inner landscape and vent them directly towards the surface upon which I work:
What creative process could bring more relief to a sensitive soul wrought with hurt and anger?
These paintings were greatly influenced by my response to a Broadway production of HAIR that I saw last spring. I was deeply moved by the story of Claude, the creative but unrealized, charismatic "genius" young man who followed the path laid before him and was led straight to his demise. I was struck by the reality of our mortality, even as youths; the pressure we feel to follow the paths our elders set for us, the ones society tells us are noble and good. The reality that trusting these paths can lead us to the end. We may need to fight against what we are TOLD is the right thing to do, to follow our HEARTS instead. My generation is FULL of Claudes. The story remains very prevalent.
We suspect that we could contribute great things to society, but are told it is smarter to stuff ourselves into cookie cutter molds.
The War Paintings echo the ugliness of war. War between nations, within nations, within our own minds. They represent generations wasted, of potential thrown away to serve a country in despicable warfare. As I worked and reflected, Claude's story became my own. My feelings of pressure from my parents and peers to follow a conventional path. The massive emphasis placed on making lots of money, pursuing profitable endeavors (and basically boring myself to death).
The undulating squiggles, harsh darkness and stormy haze in these works express my fear of the direction in which our society is being propelled, the downward spiral of humanity; the impending extinguishment of hope, beauty and love.
The glimmering gold in the paintings represents the pure, ingenuous hope harbored in the very youngest part of our souls.
Crouched in a deep squat, hands encrusted with black and white paint I squeeze paint straight form the tube. Squiggling the thick emulsion in a bold rhythmic pattern. Then I fold, corner to corner pressing, SQUISHING. I may then squish the piece to another, transferring a butterfly wing print. This squishing process may repeat a few times before paint is scraped and moved by knives, I may then cover the page in a deep watercolor wash , smearing and incorporating still-wet black and white paint into an angsty amalgamation. I scrape, squish, smear, squeeze and scribble my way to catharsis. Digging with big fat crayons into rough, mountainous surfaces.
Through these works I can channel my most hideous thoughts and feelings; the crushing anger that threatens to destroy me.To take the most horrid, abysmal aspects of my inner landscape and vent them directly towards the surface upon which I work:
What creative process could bring more relief to a sensitive soul wrought with hurt and anger?
These paintings were greatly influenced by my response to a Broadway production of HAIR that I saw last spring. I was deeply moved by the story of Claude, the creative but unrealized, charismatic "genius" young man who followed the path laid before him and was led straight to his demise. I was struck by the reality of our mortality, even as youths; the pressure we feel to follow the paths our elders set for us, the ones society tells us are noble and good. The reality that trusting these paths can lead us to the end. We may need to fight against what we are TOLD is the right thing to do, to follow our HEARTS instead. My generation is FULL of Claudes. The story remains very prevalent.
We suspect that we could contribute great things to society, but are told it is smarter to stuff ourselves into cookie cutter molds.
The War Paintings echo the ugliness of war. War between nations, within nations, within our own minds. They represent generations wasted, of potential thrown away to serve a country in despicable warfare. As I worked and reflected, Claude's story became my own. My feelings of pressure from my parents and peers to follow a conventional path. The massive emphasis placed on making lots of money, pursuing profitable endeavors (and basically boring myself to death).
The undulating squiggles, harsh darkness and stormy haze in these works express my fear of the direction in which our society is being propelled, the downward spiral of humanity; the impending extinguishment of hope, beauty and love.
The glimmering gold in the paintings represents the pure, ingenuous hope harbored in the very youngest part of our souls.