suggestions

Sometimes by zooming in on something, you discover an entirely other world, up close. These pieces stemmed from this idea, and the act of tearing a small part of a larger piece to create something with a new identity. It's not clear what these refer to (and less clear, even, from where they came) but it's partly this suggestivity that I am drawn to, retaining a mystery, and room for us to imagine.

traces and whispers

A palette of grays and white on bare wood. The delicacy of line and scribbles and markings on a surface so untouched that anything, when added, nearly screams its presence. I tiptoed through this quiet and delicate world, as if working on a sand castle of the finest walls. To me it was like poetry, where only the most important elements are allowed to stay, and where a bit of mystery and suggestivity hold by far the greatest attraction.

night environments

Here are some pieces I've been working on recently. Combining acrylic, wood, bits of fabric, plastic and even sandpaper(!), I waded through the painting and creating process, not quite knowing where I was going, until little by little, the pieces started giving me clues. First, one of them hooked onto a random element that surprised me and kept my interest. Then, another followed suit. In the process, a few that had initially seemed finished and solid ended up losing their lustre and undergoing dramatic transformations, but always towards a more complete and integrated end. Working in this longer-term process has once again given me insight into the way painting mirrors life, in that we find ourselves in a situation with certain elements, and we have to be creative in what we do with those elements and where we go from there. There are moments of risk taking, moments of wandering in the dark, completely lost, and then those moments of epiphany and wonderous relief when the pieces come together and it all makes some sense. Along with the joy of experimenting and fundamentally playing, this is yet another of the reasons I continue to carve out moments in which to work on my art -- I think it's good practice for me for life. The more I jump into the unknown and see things resolve on canvas, the easier it is for me to trust that those same principles are at work in our daily lives. And I'm thankful for that.

colors of japan

My friend Ale is someone who has always enthusiastically encouraged me with my art, and she herself is a person of great color and exuberance. Over the past six months, she has been living in Japan, and during that time she has sent me many little pieces of the culture and world in which she is submerged; with each letter her world unfolds before me like a flower, and I am thus invited to experience, too, the wonders of color and pattern, landscape and mood, which fill her days. These pieces are a celebration of moments she has shared with me, and perhaps a fusing of two worlds seemingly far apart, yet also fortunately close together.

tiles

A year and a half ago, the front of the building where I live was being redone. Part of the project was to place new tiles along all of the windows. With the workmen up on scaffolding, they had been able to see into my studio and realize that I worked with a variety of materials. It was in this way that one of them asked me if I would like some extra tiles they had no use for, and in this way that I came to have a new material on which to experiment. Tiles, I soon realized, made for a beautiful, smooth and even background onto which to attach anything from paper and felt to string and sandpaper; liquids, on the other hand, surprised me, becoming quickly absorbed into the tile's pourous surface. In the end, much of what I did was a collaging of materials (on which I had painted or drawn) onto the tile; exceptions are some marks I made with crayon or chalk (these materials stayed on the surface) or areas I painted with chinese ink, a liquid which, although also absorbed, retained its rich and deep blackness.

textured universes

Mixing fine and coarse grind marble with plaster, paper pieces with glue. Dripping, splattering or pouring paint. Or applying it with a rag, a spatula or a paintbrush. Out of these techniques (and adding and subtracting elements over a period of many weeks in the creative painting course), I watched as several worlds slowly emerged. With a longer working time frame, it was more of a crafting experience than a capturing of a moment. Perhaps that is why these feel like small universes more than snapshots -- something into which you can enter and ponder, walk around for a bit and wonder.

lines of whim and poetry

The cleanliness of line against the plain white of a background is something I have always enjoyed. Whispering or declaring itself loudly, I appreciate its simplicity, its innocence. Here I was playing with watercolor pencils, taking pleasure in the way the colors become more intense and fluid when wet, a quality never achieved when using them dry.