I've always been interested in stealing somewhat iconic aspects from famous paintings. Many of my figures strike poses based on those seen in Manet, Matisse, even Ingres and David. While they may evolve during the process into something completely different, the intention is to reference strong compositions and poses from the past. Whether immediately recognizable or not. I think that brings something timeless to a painting and gives it a strong foundation to build from. 

With an arm somewhat uncomfortably pinned to his side, the ghostly black figure came pretty naturally and holds the main character close. He whispers in his ear while staring mischievously at the viewer. The figure stares blankly off frame from dark black eyes; an expression as if he is resigned to his fate, lost in thought, stuck in place. A foot sticks out from the beneath the blanket and fingers emerge from a shadow to enhance the uneasiness of the scene.

If you ever want someone in a state of anxiety to stay there, tell them to relax. 

When I started this painting all I had in mind was the color pink...or peach. I assumed there would be a figure but color was really all I thought about and spent the first 30 minutes mixing some new paints and getting the peachy-pink background down. 

I didn't have a plan for this painting or what it would mean. At first I thought it would be a relaxing beach scene, perhaps with more foliage creeping in. But the second I added the black barbed "leaves" seemingly threatening the bather, the scene transformed into a juxtaposition of serenity and anxiety. The bright orange became electric, the patterned towel vibrated like static on an old TV screen, and the figure, once sitting peacefully, seemed to be twisting uncomfortably.

A red striped piece of cloth extends from the lower left indicating the presence of another person out of frame, vaguely where the figures gaze is aimed...is this the cause of anxiety? Did this other person bring the ghostly figure along? What thoughts trap the figure in situ?

No matter how i read the painting, I always try to leave it open ended enough so that each viewer can put a bit of themselves into the narrative. Usually interpretations are relatively similar to my intention, but even if that isn't the case, I prefer that each viewer connect on a personal level rather than try to figure out what I meant to say. 

The Pandemic Paintings started as a one-off titled "Me and the Mountain" with no intentions of a following series. I wanted to make something mostly black and white, feature a figure, and, coincidentally, that represented strength in self in the face of unknown adversity, represented by the mountain in this case. There was clearly something in the water even before lockdowns were enacted. 

The series continued with the occasional break to work on smaller paintings and drawings, but I largely kept up the pace over the second year. The sense of exploration was replaced with a veil of despair, with each painting taking on a bit more of heavy tone. Themes of isolation continued, but instead of life, breathability and bright colors carrying overtones of hope, the scenes were blanketed with melancholy, claustrophobia, and stillness that I don't think had ever really entered my paintings before. 

The figures felt new as well. In the first half they seemed to be concerned with the scene itself; reacting to their environment, gazing deeply into the landscape or even interacting with other figures. In the second half they seemed to be confronting the viewer, momentarily detached from the setting; eyes stare back as if the viewer has intruded.

Check out the full series on the website HERE and contact me to purchase anything from the series. 

I would be lying if I said I set out to make a pandemic series, but I did have the inkling that I should "document" the pandemic lockdowns through art. I didn't want to make literal representations of what was happening but I felt like it was important to continue creating even if the majority of the work had no where to go and no viewers to expect. I didn't want to change my habits or approach, but I knew something unique was occurring.

Once the lockdowns hit that first painting took on a new meaning and the idea for a longer series began to form. Originally I thought maybe 5 paintings during the month of lockdown (surely it wouldn't go beyond that); then maybe 10 as one month became two; by the time the first year of the pandemic was coming to a close I was ready to end the series at 50, even producing what I thought would be the final addition. Once again, the best laid plans...

While I defintely took a short break once the first anniversary came and went, it didn't take long to turn that frustration back into energy. The second half introduced some different trends pretty quickly that reinvigorated my passion for the series despite however I was feeling about the Pandemic and ongoing lockdowns.

While my process remained the same, darker colors crept in and the setting shifted to a mostly interior world. Bright, vast landscapes gave way to darkened rooms mirroring the growing claustrophobia of the times.

Thankfully the years of lockdowns already feel like a lifetime ago and, though created as a direct result, I think I accomplished my goal of reacting to an unprecedented situation without creating art that only speaks to one event, one experience, or only to people who lived through the covid pandemic. I believe the series contains some of my best paintings and I still get an overwhelming sense of pride from looking through the collection. I have favorites from both halves and enjoy most all of the paintings for their own reasons. Not to toot my own horn, but I have long felt that, overall, it's one of my most consistently high-quality periods of art-making.

Further, a half-year after the pandemic I was awarded a show at the new MARN Gallery in downtown Milwaukee, my largest and most ambitious solo show to date. Me and the Mountain went off without a hitch, bringing in hundreds of viewers over its run along with almost universal praise for the work and installation. In 2025 the second showing of the Pandemic Paintings will take place at the Thelma Sadoff Center for the Arts with many more details to come as that draws nearer. 

I'd never say that the pandemic was a good thing...and I also wouldn't say I enjoyed my time cooped up in a 2 bedroom apartment for 2+ years even with all the painting that occurred...but I can look back on the time period with affection for the creative energy, focus, dedication and resulting artwork it caused. Looking back after four years is like looking back on a bit of a bad dream, but even something horrific can breed beauty. Thankfully the Pandemic Paintings, at least to me, are a source of light that continues to nurture recovery from what, at the time, seemed to be a place from which we might not return.