Texture and light

New work

Arrival, 16x20”, ultramarine, copper mica, clay, eggshells, pumice on canvas on wood.

Hello, friend.

I wanted to show you a first peek at some new paintings I have recently finished.

(Exciting!)

What I am happiest about is how much I learned from making these. They are the result of starting over after the Big Splattering of 2024, which to me feels like a wildly positive turn of events, and I enjoyed this focused attempt to explore natural texture, intuition, abandon, subtle repetition, and trust.

I made new grounds from various clays and rock and even crushed eggshells. I learned that you can form a ground from many different materials. I learned the same thing about a shape.

You might see a shape and think “that’s a nice visual decoration” as if the shape is the object. But I must insist, each shape feels to me as intimate as it feels when you discover an emotion so deep down and so preliminary to speech that you feel too vulnerable or incapable to express it in words. The shape is an imprint of an object that is more subtle than the shape. The shape isn’t the true form, it’s only evidence of the attempt to express it.

I believe we are very brave to make shapes.

What I am most hung up about is still not fully knowing what my purpose as an artist is. I think this is something we discover day after day, never a precious declaration carved in marble forever. A living, breathing, changing discovery. It’s the most luminous and transmissive type of sorrow, to not know. One that propels me into inspiration and action. The not-knowing is a kind of ongoing spark. I officially believe this is what it means to be human. We are constantly taking action out of this bubbling space that can feel like a lot of not-knowing. A needing to know. There can be fear there, but also fire. There can be sadness there, but also light. Knowing this means there is a good deal of knowing after all. In fact, I believe we contain infinite hidden wisdom. Accessing it is the assignment.

Anyway.

Shipping out paintings is satisfying, and it also opens up the hollow dimension of liminal fertility. (Otherwise more commonly known as the space between creative projects). It’s most strongly felt when one project ends. This is neither positive nor negative but something else entirely. A freeing of space not yet filled.

This work is complete. So, what’s next?

Nothing, yet.

Maybe it’s good to float in the empty space for now. Actually, that’s my favorite place to be, and I need to make sure I don’t overstay my welcome! My more grounded plan now is to orchestrate new experiments. It’s play-o-clock! The best!

Remember: everything is always a study, everything is always a practice.

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Six new paintings will be on display at the Nahcotta gallery in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, on Feb 4. They will be available for purchase on their website too! I am so thankful for this opportunity to show my work. Nothing makes me happier than art experienced directly in person.

For here and now though, the best I can offer are some screen-bound images. I do hope you enjoy the color, texture, and light in your inbox!