My paintings function as textural snapshots; individual entities that capture specific moments or ideas and yet still relate to each other by the nature of the markmaking, color, and spatial relationships between the forms. They speak about transition, but a transition that hasn’t been very consistent in its progression or strength. It has been, at alternate times; gradual, painful, lovely and overwhelming. Nothing has been expected, and yet everything has been welcomed.
Each piece reflects a wavelength on my mental monitor, that I attempt to decipher with the same intensity that I watched the monitor at my children’s birth.
These visual strands weave together to form the fabric of my particular process, or progress, through this transitional space. And though they’re generally non-representational, I intend that people identify with them out of the memories or moments that the colors and marks recollect. That personal identification is part of what I’m so drawn to about painting. It gives me an opportunity to connect with people, some of whom I never meet, but all with whom I’ve shared some common experience.
My most recent paintings have started incorporating recognizable organic shapes, most obviously the body and plants. These pieces continue an exploration of the boundaries involved in becoming a parent, as well as the changing dimensions of my own time conversations. I’ve never worked with the figure much before, but it seemed an apt metaphor for the real space that I inhabit every day. With each painting that emerges, whether abstract, body or plant-based, I find my visual dialogue becoming richer and more relevant to how I define myself as an artist.