Feb 28 - April 1, 2018
Friday, March 2
As in all my work, I begin by creating a tiny sculptural relief assembled from intriguing pieces I find on the street, primarily rusted metal. These reliefs are then photographed and printed at a greatly enlarged scale. Finally, using colored pencil, I enhance the image by drawing directly on the photograph.
Artist Talk and Poetry Reading
Saturday, March 24, 4 pm
Featuring poets Gary Duehr, Alan Feldman, Bernard Horn and Arlene Weiland.
Exhilaration and groaning. Frustration and freedom. Inspiration and uncertainty. Abundance and emptiness. Blazing forth and muddling through. The day-by-day repertoire of oscillating dualities that any talent withstands — and tremendous solitude, too. And the silence: 50 years in a room silent as the bottom of a pool, eking out, when all went well, my minimum daily allowance of usable prose.
— Philip Roth, 2018, January 22
Who could describe the act of creating better than that?
Memories, dreams, fantasy, reality.
As in my exhibit in 2012 some of these paintings are based on drawings from several decades ago. In this work I reposition some of the subjects in environments that shift the meaning of the work: from, for example, a drawing of a sleeping child to a child dreaming of or sleeping in a lush flowery world; from a young girl balancing on her hands on a diving board to a nymph balancing on a rocky surface in a wild natural world. I find the act of painting a liberating experience that allows me to exercise my imagination and yet bring that imagination together with a real event and give “to airy nothing a local habitation and a name.”
I try to leave the image open enough so that viewers can bring their own experiences and imaginations to the process. I want a dialogue with each viewer. I want the viewer to trust what is present enough to allow for expansion. How did the figure get to this place? Why is she balancing on a place so rocky?
Making a Random Walk
It’s really very simple, a spinner, tape and time is all you need. Spin, tape, shift, repeat. Mathematically, a wooden spinner is not very random, but on a human level, it is more than adequate. Whatever cycles and regularities exist in the system are not immediately apparent to the eye and brain.
That’s not to say the eye and brain aren’t trying to find cycles and regularities. On the contrary, they thirst after cycles and regularities, demand cycles and regularities. Pattern recognition is one of the most basic visual processes, and it will not be denied. It allows us to recognize the face of our friends and family at a split-second, but also leads us to recognize faces in the clouds.
So it goes with a random walk. Your mind assumes that patterns *must* exist. You ascribe desires, direction and discretion to a very, very mindless process. The spinner “wants” to head to the corner. It “chooses” to skirt the wall. A little later on, as the process wends its way in unexpected and counterintuitive ways, the mind sees agency behind these motions. The path is “deciding” to avoid the center of the room. It “hates” one section of floor. And finally, around the third hour of sliding along the floor to the whims of probability, your thoughts begin to resemble prayer. You ask it to “please” finish up. You wonder what posture, what genuflection might satisfy this remote, aloof motive force.
And then, it's over. The path has hit the end. You stand up, and look at what you've drawn. The probabilities have collapsed, and you're left with a unique, and completely unpredictable, outcome.