Lost in Detroit II
I am a painter. I start with traditional oil paint, gouache, paper, stretched canvases, brushes, and then I create marks that have personal meanings for me. Painting, for me, is about the picture plane and that place of the imagination, which is parallel to the surface and becomes a stage for invention. The plane is the space where I act out my imagination.
I work on paper because I like the feel of paper and because it allows me the flexibility to move sections of a painting around, so I can question the content and the composition. Cutting up the painted paper, I note certain sections that attract my attention; I recycle images, reposition parts, and recombine specific marks in hopes of revealing a more dynamic result.
I am attracted to prismatic color and brilliant contrasts that I make by juxtaposing different hues. My images are abstract and in painting them, I am aware of the freedom they afford me to forget specific reality.
A recent painting, Untitled Pink and Red, portrays yellow and blue angular and curved forms unfolding and unfurling across a red field. The forms are abstract; they resemble any number of things, but are not specific. In the midst of the field, there is a kind of waving flagpole to which is attached round shapes that look like heads, or maybe they’re the pads of fingers. The forms are analogous; they are kindred spirits that clarify their relationships through their similar qualities. Truthfully, I don’t know what these forms are, except that I put them in because I like them.
I have a huge desire to move forward in my space as a painter, to personalize my work, and make it relevant and in so doing, listen to myself and take on my own concept of what constitutes a successful painter. I am a very focused, hard-working artist because it is who I am.