Uncertainty fascinates me.
My recent work explores interactions in space, time, and momentum. Physics teaches we can’t be certain about both where something is and how fast it is going, yet out of uncertainty emerges a seemingly ordered world.
I see the world through an analogous lens of an artist. I ask how my mind creates and imposes structure and order where nothing is certain. As dusk falls, I strain to identify where the sky ends and the earth begins. Are those dark shapes distant hills, or storm clouds racing toward me? I squint to locate something familiar in the growing darkness, and the last shafts of light shoot down from the setting sun behind the clouds and then up from beyond the horizon. Is the horizon moving, or are my eyes playing tricks on me?
I often work in two dimensions on paper. I begin by scrubbing finely ground raw earth and mineral pigments into the surface of a sheet of paper, building up subtle tones in multiple overlapping layers that shift in color and shape as light and viewpoint change. I use pastel, pencil, watercolor, gouache, and acrylic paint to coax forms from pigmented areas, to flow one form into another and to sharpen and soften edges between forms. I apply charcoal and graphite powders to create depth and movement. I often incorporate irregular grids to establish coordinates in space, mimicking the way the mind introduces structure in disorder and uncertainty.
My recent work explores interactions in space, time, and momentum. Physics teaches we can’t be certain about both where something is and how fast it is going, yet out of uncertainty emerges a seemingly ordered world.
I see the world through an analogous lens of an artist. I ask how my mind creates and imposes structure and order where nothing is certain. As dusk falls, I strain to identify where the sky ends and the earth begins. Are those dark shapes distant hills, or storm clouds racing toward me? I squint to locate something familiar in the growing darkness, and the last shafts of light shoot down from the setting sun behind the clouds and then up from beyond the horizon. Is the horizon moving, or are my eyes playing tricks on me?
I often work in two dimensions on paper. I begin by scrubbing finely ground raw earth and mineral pigments into the surface of a sheet of paper, building up subtle tones in multiple overlapping layers that shift in color and shape as light and viewpoint change. I use pastel, pencil, watercolor, gouache, and acrylic paint to coax forms from pigmented areas, to flow one form into another and to sharpen and soften edges between forms. I apply charcoal and graphite powders to create depth and movement. I often incorporate irregular grids to establish coordinates in space, mimicking the way the mind introduces structure in disorder and uncertainty.
