Generalized figures occupy a somewhat strange and surreal landscape; recognizable in ways but always feeling a bit out of reach; like a dream you can't quite remember. The figures go about their business, unconcerned with the viewer, but oddly unconcerned with each other as well. There's a sense of calm and isolation, but also an oppressive heat from the warm colors occupying the top 2/3s of the canvas. An eye stares at the viewer from just below what seems to be the sun...but is that a sun? If so what are the other two red orbs in the sky? As the viewer we're not entirely sure where we stand. Are we part of the scene on the other side of the pool mirroring the standing white figure? Are we voyeurs hidden in the surrounding foliage; a potential danger to the exposed figure? Are we disembodied beings invisible to the figures? Two are or appear to be toweling dry but they face opposite directions. The two figures lying down appear to hold hands behind the standing figure, but they also appear almost lifeless. Are the figures simply lounging or is there more to their relationship? Why are the separated by the standing figure? This painting is a great example of what I think makes my art unique and ultimately successful. I like to present a scene that can be enjoyed for aesthetic reasons, but when looking closely, narratives, relationships, and questions emerge about what the viewer is faced with. Landscapes create a setting that feels like a place you've been, but also is intangible; unable to be placed firmly in reality. I want the viewer to be attracted and then enveloped with the image, absorbed in the possibilities, and encouraged to investigate. I have my own thoughts about what the scene depicts and what each character represents, but I only want to leave bread crumbs. If I want people to think a certain way, I can tell them exactly what I want the painting to say. If I want people to truly engage, I give them bits and pieces that require threads from the viewer to connect. I want the viewer to inject a bit of themselves into the painting, this way, every time its shown or seen, it becomes something slightly new, perhaps more powerful, perhaps connecting to or informing a viewer in a unique way that brings something more important than just an image I put on a canvas.
When I am on vacation I often consider the locals you encounter. While I relax without a care in the world, they go about their everyday life. While I day-drink and absorb the sun, they're running errands like it's any normal weekday. The stark realization that paradise for some is nothing of the sort for others always makes me wonder what "paradise" really is. Is it some far off magical land where no one has a care in the world? Or is it more down to earth; something more akin to the pleasantries of everyday life? I'm not saying that we enjoy monotonous errands, illness, or minor annoyances, but would we, on the contrary, really enjoy a life without any conflict at all? Would I make art if life was perfect and I had no desire for more? Would it be any good? Are negatives required to appreciate the positives when encountered or can you appreciate perfection even if nothing ever goes wrong?
Island; Garden; Oasis; Eden is available for purchase through the Thelma Sadoff Center for the Arts during the duration of the show. Feel free to contact me with any questions.
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