"You have always been"

10" x 30"
2010
acrylic on textured canvas
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The full text reads "You have always been the one I was looking for" in all caps.

It's a familiar sentiment. Well, familiar to some. To find what you were looking for, without knowing you were looking for it. And to know unquestionably that this thing, or person, was what you needed, what you were looking for without realizing it.

At the time I painted this, I was thinking about the ferns in my front yard. Before the harsh winter this year (well, harsh for Houston), I had an overabundance of ferns in my front yard. I was preparing to thin the beds out, and trade some for ginger with a friend. But then it froze. And stayed cold. And snowed. My ferns did not like this.

I was unhappy for a while, but accepting, because I had done nothing to prevent this. However, upon closer inspection, and when the sun finally returned, I realized that a few delicate fingers of green were slowly spiraling up out of the dirt. I realized that what I had thought was lost, due to my indifference, was actually still salvagable. In fact, it was probably beneficial to the plant for some of it to die back naturally, instead of violently through my intervention with a cultivator. If only relationships with people were as easily wrangled as relationships with plants.

The curving, organic lines in this work, and the acompanying text, reach out of the bottom of the painting towards an unseen sun. Plants, from the moment they are germinated under the soil, begin their struggle upwards, towards light, towards heat, towards warmth. It matters not if the plants know that it is "the sun" that they are reaching towards with all their might, they just head towards the warmth - because it feels right.

Are we, as humans, really that different? We crave warmth, we crave companionship, we crave community. Unfortunately, some people chose to interpret this craving as a need to be with somebody, anybody, in order to not be alone. To be a part of something definite, if flawed, instead of facing the unknown possibility of something better, something right. Something you never knew you were looking for.

Why Do You Delight In My Delirium?

2010
16" x shoot, maybe 48"? (I should check on that)
Stolen 2/19/2010

This painting is about many things. I love comic books and am a big Neil Gaiman fan, especially his "Sandman" series, which features a group of siblings known as The Endless. Their names all begin withe letter "D", and all personify a different state of being. The main character is Dream (hence the series being named Sandman), but his siblings Destiny, Death, Destruction, Desire, Despair and Delirium all make appearances from time to time. Although Death is a favorite of many, with her goth looks, and Egyptian insipired eye makeup, Delirium is my favorite. In her text bubles, she 'speaks' in a jumble of fonts, against myriad mutable hues. Her appearance is constantly in flux, as is her name. She began, before time, as Delight, but 'something' (which is never explicitly revealed) happens which affects her so deeply that she ceases to be Delight, instead favoring the moniker Delirium. To me, these two words - Delight and Delirium - are among those parings of ideas that frequently have a fine-lined interplay; a short walk from one to the other. Another example of this is the fine line between liking somebody and obsessing over them.

The path from delight to delirium is a short one, and many people seem to enjoy other people's madness. You know the type, they stir the pot, they look for drama and create it where there is none. They amuse themselves by goading people on until the subject is teetering on the brink of madness. These people are not true friends, because they do not see you as subjects, people to relate to, but objects, things to be toyed with. This idea, the question of why one person would seemingly derive so much pleasure from other's angst, is the subject of this painting. The letters are of differing sizes, and are rarely aligned with the ones most proximal. They begin a bit more clear toward the top, with the map of Houston, my home, peeking through, amongst the beginings of swirling ideas. Towards the bottom of the painting, delirium takes over, with obsessive repetition of the word.

Painting for me is a cathartic experience. I pour and drip and brush my feelings onto the canvas, as I pour, drip and brush the paint on. I include maps, with carefully chosen areas either marked or obscured, dependent on the mood of the piece, and my feelings toward the location. I prefer vertical orientation to horizontal when I build my canvases. I use circles because they have no begining and no end. If circles represent closed systems, then the loose swirls represent transition, change, flux and flow. Delirium.

Upcoming Show(s)

I have work in a few shows coming up. Here is the flyer for one, I'll post the rest as they become available!

the evolution of a painting.

Circle Me

Circle Me

Mixed Media

2009

42" x 54"

SOLD

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This is, to date, the largest painting I have ever made.

I have been fascinated by maps for a long time. When I was younger, I would stare at them for hours on the countless road trips my family would take. On long weekends, we would drive to camp in the mountains of north Georgia or North Carolina. My dad's family, by and large, all lived within driving distance of each other, so there were many family road trips for holidays. My mom's family, however, was a little different.

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When I was born, I was the first grandchild on that side of my family. I still believe that my grandparents, Beppe and Papa, took that as a sign that they should retire and travel. And travel they did. The next 11 years were spent on their boat, the Kennemer, while the leisurly circumnavigated the globe. Periodically, we would recieve post cards, letters and care packages from them, describing their travels, and the fascinating places they went. My parents carefully plotted their route on a large world map that would be carefully unrolled each time news arrived. (It strikes me now how unnerving it must have been for my mother during those years - raising her two children, and worrying about where her parents might be, and how they were faring.) I always loved to look at that map. It is now hanging in the spare room in my Papa's house in central Florida, and I was thrilled to show it to my kids this summer.

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To some degree, then, it is only natural that maps became a central theme of my work. I will explain more about this in the future.

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This particular work includes maps of Florida, where I spent most of the first part of my life, and Texas, where I have been since then.

Here We Go...

Ok. I have finally joined the 21st century, and created a website for my art. I am going to slowly be posting my works on here. Like anything? Loathe anything? I'd love to hear your feedback either way.