My Process
From my earliest memories I knew my passion. I wanted to be an artist. I drew obsessively as a child - on paper, clothes, homework, skin, etc. I drew people and studied the faces of my friends and family, often so engrossed in what I was seeing that I missed what they were saying. I drew my first naked bodies when I was 13 at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. We met in the basement of the museum. My teacher encouraged me to tape large pieces of newsprint to the wall and I covered the paper and myself in charcoal. I thought it was the medium of the gods.
Currently, my primary artistic media are oil painting and ink drawing. I choose oil paint for its transformative qualities. I add paint to the surface and then take the paint away. I wipe away the parts of the painting that feel precious or overworked, leaving behind ghost images on the surface. When I am tired or having a lazy day I ignore the parts of the painting that interrupt the flow or demand too much attention, and try to convince myself that they can stay. Sometimes I layer the paint until parts of the work become obliterated. Using bristle brushes, some old and worn, I make marks that feel beyond my control, not knowing how the paint is going to meet the canvas. I paint with my hands and rags. I start by working from observation, but the work can read as abstract in the mark making. Paint connects me to transcendent experiences, as well as the human and physical plane.
In contrast to oil paints that are malleable, drawing with ink feels unforgiving and permanent. This has led me to experiment with the process and the type of paper that I use. My subject matter includes emotionally evocative landscapes, dead birds that I discover on my walks, bombed out trains, and portraits of my elderly mother. Equally as important as this imagery is my evolving process that allows me to alter this exacting material through cutting and tearing away layers of paper and images, and glueing paper fragments to both the front and back of the work. The process of tearing and cutting creates the appearance of being wounded, but the paper retains its essential integrity and strength.
Through my paintings and drawings I seek to bend reality - layering both creation and destruction in the making.
Song of Songs: Portraits of the Artist's Mother
My elderly mother, Mary, lived with me periodically during the pandemic. Through her, I witnessed the effects of emotional and physical loneliness. The needs of the body - both the basics of bodily functions, and spiritual and emotional yearnings - are satisfied largely through physical proximity to others, touch, and intimacy.
The titles for the portraits of my mother come from the biblical text, Song of Songs. This poetry is both explicitly sensual and metaphorically spiritual, describing the intensity of the relationship between lovers. Although there is a societal disconnect between the language of sexual longing and the physicality of an elderly woman, I choose to title works of my mother from this text to convey the truth that love and desire, the need for human contact and touch are universal and not limited by age. Living through the pandemic and social isolation, this reality has become painfully clear.
After Light Darkness Rose, Another Day
After Light Darkness Rose, Another Day - a series of thirteen small paintings - references diverse geographies, seasons, and days. My images are inspired by faraway lands such as Japan and Scotland, as well as Midwestern landscapes that are close to home and heart. I have walked in each place, finding beauty beyond the traditionally conventional - breathing the air, absorbing the light, listening to small and large movements around me. This series expresses the concept of wholeness and unification, in that each moment is a creation story.