The Pandemic Paintings

An introspection. A painted fight or flight response to lockdown, isolation, and mental health challenges faced through the ongoing pandemic.

Installation view of "Me and the Mountain" at MARN Art + Culture Hub
​contact with inquiries - all work for sale

Thoughts and Insight

I realized, about a year into the series, that this was not a collection of images inspired by events witnessed or specific actions that I experienced but that it was more an unplanned, organic personal reaction to the constant flow of communication juxtaposed with a lack of real connection to the world around me. The paintings are not necessarily declarations of a belief or specific stance on a subject matter, but are more like diary entries, a recorded stream-of-consciousness, reflecting an ever-evolving list of thoughts, concerns, and experiences throughout an ever-evolving situation.

​#3
​Sharing Lunch.
50x56″
Acrylic on rough canvas. - 

Inspired by "The Dance" by Henri Matisse in that I wanted to create a simple green landscape with bold, red figures and the juxtaposition of the joyful dance with the current lack of social interaction. It also felt apt to depict an age-old subject matter, the meal, through the momentary lens of social distancing.

In all I wanted to capture the strange melancholy feeling of the moment; the unsure nature of what was coming, what was necessary, and what would damage our already potentially fragile social bonds. A feeling of despair seemed to fall like a gentle mist. 

#2
​The First Horseman.

Inspired by the story of the four horsemen from The Book of Revelations, “The First Horseman” reflects the restrictions, isolation, and loss foisted upon the public along with the sense of dread as if collectively being led to slaughter.

​As the pandemic took hold, we were not only faced with the loss of our social support structures, but also were led, often relatively blindly, into an indecipherable future. We marched along in this morose parade, hoping to see the end around the next turn, but also hesitant to believe we were really moving forward at all. 

I felt something like a funeral procession. Nobody wanted to be here but everyone tried to take the steps needed to keep the progression plodding slowly ahead. The ultimate goal not even one we wanted to face, but one we felt necessary to endure. 

#1
​Me & The Mountain.

​The first painting created during the pandemic, even early enough that I hadn’t yet conceived the idea of a “Pandemic Painting” series when it was started, “Me & The Mountain” was to be an image of confidence in the face of what might be an insurmountable challenge. Oddly appropriate, the day it was finished, the first lockdowns were announced in Wisconsin, immediately shifting the lens through which the message of this felicitous painting was interpreted. A monochromatic color-palette, once intended to show the "blank canvas" of the subject as they begin their journey, soon to be colored by experience, now shifts to reflecting  the dread of beauty and optimism being drained from the world. Me & The Mountain may technically be the start of the Pandemic Painting series, but it also represents the very real shift in mentality and reality, that many felt as the pandemic grew from a distant concern to dominating force.

#4
​Diving Head First.

This painting was built from a desire to do something a little more “on the nose”  and to communicate the feeling of everything changing rapidly around you. One of the more illustrative paintings in the seres along with the following. I remember going through a bit of a “moment” thinking that my artwork would not present imagery that other people would connect with. I don’t know if this does either, but it was the first time In a long time I tried to be very “obvious” with imagery and titling.

#5
​And Then We Burned the Boats in the Harbor.

​The second painting from an attempt to be more obvious with my ideas and symbolism, this painting is all about taking the strongest possible measures despite negative repercussions one might face.

This painting touches on the growing feeling of isolation I felt as lockdowns were imposed, businesses closed, and society (at least where I was) largely shut down and moved to a virtual environment. Here, figures oversee boats burning in the harbor, perhaps preventing an unknown force from unknowingly being let in, but also preventing those within the community from reaching out. 

#6
​Alone Together

​A play on the incessantly uttered phrase that dominated the early pandemic days “we are in this together”.

I found this sentiment confusing and somewhat frustrating. The vast majority of people facing hardships from the pandemic could not simply sit at home, work on computers and continue to gather paychecks. We were never "in this together" beyond the fact we all faced a pandemic. Those that were able, me included, barricaded ourselves in our personal protective shells and allowed the rest of the “essentials” to continue life out in the real world despite the dangers. 

I do not claim to have an ideal solution we should have followed, but the Idea that I could keep my job, stay within the safety of my own home, and also produce hundreds of paintings without much hardship while others hazarded the real world for less pay and more tribulations brought an unshakable sense of guilt and privilege to the phrase. 

#7
​Carrying On.

​A visual representation of the attempt to continue life as normal while everything that once defined our society has been tossed to the wind.

Nothing and no one is quite normal and I'm unsure if that's alright.

#8
​The Wall in the Garden.

One of the more claustrophobic in the series, this painting fits in  with the second half “structure” portion just as well as the half it was made with. Although, It also could be seen as one of the first overall to introduce a darker pallet to the collection.

#9
​Good Air.
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A response to being in outdoor spaces more often as the weather improves, but experiencing a dread, isolation and emptiness that stifles relaxation and enjoyment of the surroundings. Distant figures go about their business in silence as two characters in the foreground  almost melt into the landscape. It’s about a feeling of discomfort in the face of something beautiful…almost like baking in humidity while watching a gorgeous sunrise.

#10
​Cheers.

As the pandemic extends into its 3rd or 4th week, people begin discussing some of the negative impacts of lockdown and isolation from friends and family. There were lamentations on the loss of social contact and the damages caused by that lack, yet simultaneously we’d remark about being “in this together” while many would refuse to explore ways to address those needs. The painting takes on this juxtaposition by comparing the situation to those needing a drink. A figure holding water says “cheers” and welcomes the others, but suspicion and fear keep the thirsty at arms reach. This is a simplistic summarization of the real situation, which had many more factors to consider, but the idea that almost all acknowledged a problem but also did not consider many if any alternative mystified me at the time.

#11
​Sat Like a Stone.

​I don’t believe it was intentional, but this paintings stands somewhat as a darker extension of Good Air. It takes the idea of the vast emptiness further. Here you see figures seated, somewhat hunched and staring straight ahead. They overlap and squeeze together, with one jutting upwards as if unable to fit within the frame. A dark and barren landscape extends before them with the only definable feature a glowing red orb with its center removed as if a sun during an eclipse. Almost a month in, I felt as if many were simply trying to wait out the danger, stoically weathering the storm as if some dawn was about to break and flood the area with warmth.

#12
​Picking Fruit at Night.

​This was the first truly dark painting in the series, with the figures barely discernible from the trees and foliage from the surroundings. This painting reflects the idea of feeling guilt over doing something you want or need. Inspired by the strange sense one got while out in public and felt as though you were doing something wrong…something looked down upon. Something you did not want other’s to catch you doing. It was a strange feeling to be in a supermarket wondering if your co-workers might criticize your choice to go in person whether or not following the rules. Once normal actions became questionable, there was a constant worry that any decision would reap some unforeseen negative response.

#13
​Open table.

About a month in, there was an obvious and growing divide between those that wanted to be allowed to go back to normal and those that wanted mandates and lockdowns to continue for the greater good. Even within those groups, it seems as if we all formed our personal “pandemic teams” with which we felt comfortable expressing our feelings, maybe even getting together where possible. Open Table communicates the idea of these closed groups, formed out of necessity, but further compartmentalizing society and fostering the idea that there was something “wrong” or suspicious about “other” people not within our immediate group.

#14
​Other.

​Other takes this idea of showing suspicion and fear toward those outside our “pandemic teams” a step further, literally placing an individual outside and lower than another group of figures. It is a much more obvious depiction of the idea that, out of fear for the safety of everyone, we sacrificed perhaps a bit of our humanity in the short term toward those that needed it most.

#15
​I am an Island.

This painting is about attempting to conjure strength in the face of hardship without your usual support network. When isolation and loneliness cause depression, it becomes a circular dilemma where the person relied on to fix the problem is the one crippled by that exact issue.

#16
​Bathers on the Riverbanks

​Similar to Sharing Lunch, this painting was inspired by wanting to address a traditional subject-matter through the lense of the modern day. Figures in the top-half of the painting splash and relax, even having a party tent set up across the river, while a distant figure hesitates, life-preserver in hand, seemingly wary of joining the group.

#17
​George and the Dragon.

​Discussions of courage permeated the conversation, yet it was interesting to hear who and what was considered brave as time went on and situations changed. What is courage when there isn’t a physical opponent we can overpower or outsmart? Is courage, depending on the circumstance, a retreat or is courage in that instance standing and continuing to fight no matter the odds?

#18
​The Fountain.

​Another taking its name from a myth of the past, The Fountain was inspired somewhat by the ongoing battle over water in the Great Lakes and the idea of one’s right to keep their property private versus helping those in need, a common debate during the pandemic. In this painting a variety of characters approach a small bridge that leads to a gated area. A green figure, disappearing into the landscape, stands watch. A bird looms in the sky, almost like a storm.

#19
​Revelation.

​The second dark blue night scene, revelation once again brings us to the water as a reference of venturing beyond comfort and, here, returning with a source of light, perhaps inferring knowledge or an increased propensity to explain ones beliefs or actions rather than fully hide as in “Picking Fruit at Night”. It’s an image of someone still reluctant to admit one’s actions, but gradually becoming more willing to show oneself as well.

#20
​Apollo on the Surface of the Sun.

​I wanted to paint something bright following the night scene in “Revelation” and wanted to somehow fill a square space with a solitary figure. I remember intending a full scene more similar to the other paintings in the series, but something felt oddly pleasant about how these simple splashes of color formed a figure that softly dissolved into the bright orange.

#21
​Crossing
​A painting about forging a path forward in an attempt to find somewhere to be. A figure hauls a boat down a shallow waterway with two other boats on the shore ahead. A settlement sits off in the distance. Both the figure, along with representations of the wind, momentum, some otherworldly force, push the figure forward, evoking the sense of following, perhaps even being swept along by, an unseen current.

#22
​Fires.

​Inspired by the horrible beauty and awe of forest fires that ravaged vast areas of the US in 2020, this painting reflects the effect of distance and isolation, showing two figures overlooking a far-off blaze almost as if it was a small campfire. In a literal sense, it’s a display of our ability as humans to disassociate ourselves from a tragedy occurring before us. As a metaphor for the pandemic, perhaps it was a reaction to seeing people so willing to step back and, rather than work through an issue with others, wait for the issue to pass as everyone, to some extent, fought the fires occurring in our own personal lives on a day to day basis on our own.

#23
​Touchy Subject.

​During a time in which I often occupied the same space as my significant other, we felt distant with a surprising frequency, as time went on. There was a sense of feeling distant, disconnected and altogether lonely despite our proximity as we repeated our daily routines and waited for change.

#24
​Behind the Throne.

​One of the few paintings from the series not to feature a figure prominently, here hiding them behind a red, flame-like throne, this painting is about hiding behind authority and effectively letting them stand and speak for you.

#26
​Separate.

​Three figures occupy a compressed space split in half by a meandering river, each seemingly watching to ensure the proper distance is left between them. There is a tension that pervades the public setting, keeping everyone, to some degree or another, on edge, unsettled, leaning ever slightly toward the exit.

#27
​Camp.

Another reflection on the feeling of isolation and distance, even with so many people around. This painting focuses on stillness; almost desperately waiting for something to break through the deafening silence.

#28
​Company.

A sarcastic representation of loneliness and attempted connection during a time of seperation. Inspired by endless zoom calls, staring at the same walls day after day, and longing for normalcy.

#29
​​Wander.

Wander is about just that...this sense of moving; perhaps in the right direction, but with no real way to know if that's the case, nor whether you're making any progress toward whatever that destination my be. I remember wanting to paint something green that appeared as though a figure walked just a few feet away, crossing the viewer's path, but is still only partially seen and , as you watch, vanishing amongst the brush.
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#30
​New Lagoon.

When a state becomes intolerable, one must move to a new setting.  New Lagoon is the moment one finally takes one last look the previous settlement before beginning the search for a new one.

#31
​Full Bloom.

Inspired by the "Dominion" drawing series going on at the time, I wanted this painting to be more open and perhaps. evoke more of a sense of hope than most paintings in the series. The figures almost disappear into the background amongst the colors and shapes which, to me, conveys a sense of calm and warmth.

#32
​Us and the Bluff

A counterpoint to "Me and the Mountain" , this painting is about embarking  on a journey with a partner and the mixture of excitement and foreboding as one weighs what they are about to face.

#33
​We've Not Made Much.

About gathering, even with near nothing to share, and feelings of isolation, not so much from those close to you but from the outside world, here symbolized by the wall of pointed foliage.

#34
​Three and a Fire.

Another on gathering and the warmth of community, even when together only physically. This painting shows three figures, each in various states of disappearance in a barely definable setting. Each seems lost in thought and uninterested in those around them, only the flames of fire are fully defined and sharply in focus.

#35
​We Swam Too Far Into the Lagoon.

A painting about getting lost due to a lack of attention or awareness. This painting shows a group of figures adrift at sea, seemingly unconcerned with their predicament. Ignorance is bliss as they say.

This painting was the first to add detailed facial features to what, up till now, had largely been faceless shadows. 

#36
​Fountain of Youth.

A reference to the well-known myth and a reflection on herd mentality pulling one away from a clear benefit. In this scene a selection of bathers leaves the healing waters of the fountain to chase another group of figures into the darkness. One figure on the far left, separate from the others, seems to stand still, holding his hand out to the others as if imploring them to stop, or perhaps, suggesting their route.

#37
​Snitch.

About someone close calling one out or revealing a secret; the idea of never quite feeling secure or safe amongst those around you. Regularly throughout the pandemic, though I never personally ran into confrontation, looks, glances, whispers and even the occasional person crossing the street all took new meaning. These once easily decipherable social interactions became a constant series of potential complaints or judgements. Even when with friends, the pandemic never let one fully relax into our previous norms.

#38
​We Were Barely There.

A painting about working through adversity and almost accomplishing one's goals, only for that work to be ignored, forgotten, or made worthless by the forces out of your control. Do you keep fighting to eventually, hopefully obtain that goal or do you cut your losses now.

#39
​Raise the Drawbridge

Simply put, this painting is about blocking access to others due to a perceived danger, or even just a difference. In the image, two figures sit on a bridge and motion for it to be raised as dark, mysterious figures approach. On the left, an empty chair shines beneath a crown-like structure, walled off from the surrounding landscape. With resources and comfort to spare, and no obvious sign of danger, the inhabitants still choose to withdraw.

#40
Campfire

The Landscape, and even the hint at figures, dissolve into the background, leaving roaring flames as the major point of focus. I wanted to create a scene that specifically did not focus on humans, for the first time in the series, but hinted at the tumultuous atmosphere of the present day.

#41
Searching for the Right Place to Dock.

Like others, this painting is a reflection upon feelings of loneliness, distance, and despair, but here you see a figure in search of a new "home". As the sun sets, he holds his torch forward as if to light the way in the coming darkness. Behind him, a plume of smoke rises from the landscape. Clearly he's reached some sort of settlement but, based on the image and title, his search continues for one reason or another.

#42
Low Tide

A companion to Searching for the Right Place to Dock, Low Tide depicts the aftermath of the search, leaving our traveller on the banks of a river alone. The figure has lost all its definition and the boat leans to the left as the water recedes. The scene is meant to convey a feeling of resignation to ones situation. Here, our traveller remains in search of his new community, left to fend for himself in an unknown land.

#43

#44
Hearing Whispers Across the River.​

Another companion to “Searching…” and “Low Tide”, this depicts a similar setting sometime later, when encountering a group from afar. The seperation isn’t absolute, but still entirely isolating, perhaps even moreso as the restriction is made apparent. When just beyond reach, something becomes even more desirable.

#45
More Wood for the Fires​

A bit more on the side of self-reliance, persistence, and hope, but perhaps embracing isolation in a more permanent fashion. The figure is going about his work, seemingly unconcerned with world around him. He disappears into the landscape as desire and want are replaced by necessity and survival.

#46
Gather at the Campfire.​

An image of fulfilling desire for communication and connection despite differences and lack of prospects on the horizon. A vast and nearly empty landscape surrounds a group of figures that seem somewhat uncomfortably comprised. Two trees stand as columns  as if on guard. Once again a small fire takes the focus of the figures.

#47
I’m Only Sleeping.

A painting about disappearing and taking time to oneself. 

#48
Pillars of the Community.

A picture of judgement. A group of figures looms over a delicate tree that seems to be cut short yet still blossoming, while their gaze already turns toward the smaller foliage to the left. If one will not bend to your will, simply go for the group.

#49
Searching at Night.

We have all felt a sudden state of confusion; walking into a new room and immediately forgetting why. You stand still, maybe glancing around, blank and shocked that something so recently important has completely disappeared from your mind. This was a common feeling over the past year, but instead of the loss being momentary, I often felt generally lost no matter what the current task at hand. There was simultaneously a lack of options and the loss of drive toward or importance to any of them. I was left glancing around, not really looking at anything, waiting for a purpose to emerge.

#50
Plunder.

I feel a strange juxtaposition between the "In This Together" mantra commonly recited on everything from company emails to national commercials alongside the literal isolation and its effect on the demands on one's personal mental health, literally leaving people on their own to deal with something never before encountered, the actual complete lack of togetherness. Interestingly, one result of this is the more widespread encouragement of addressing one's own mental health needs and placing those needs over the requirements of previously prioritized aspects of life, such as work and social engagements. While there is nothing inherently wrong with that, it seems we've created a somewhat self-sustaining and destructive loop where we encourage isolation, leading to mental health issues which we encourage people to address by further isolating themselves from the many things that may, in the past, have helped them through these issues. That's not to say that taking time for oneself is wrong, but, I do think that part of the solution to many anxiety and depression issues that arose during the pandemic may stem from isolation in the first place.

Plunder displays a moment when one, realizing their action may not be good for the whole, does something that benefits their own immediate need anyway. In this instance and that of the pandemic, perhaps justifiable on every individual level, but, when viewed from the perspective of the community, we can see these actions have unintended and greater consequences.

#51
Center.

I remember thinking that this painting may be the final addition to the Pandemic series. Number 50 seemed like a good number and, at the time, cases were on a downward trajectory. 

I think this was an attempt to make something beautiful that also represented some kind of a meeting of old and new. As if the demons from the last year were acknowledging the return of norms. 

In retrospect, I think this is an image of old and new, in some way, coming to a consensus. Things are different and we may just have to move on with this always playing some part in our lives and minds. 

#52
Waiting Outside the Red Gate.

After a year of the Pandemic (this was the first painting of 2021), I thought this would be the first painting of a new and separate series, Structure. However, while it did, in some ways, establish something new, (mainly a partial move to darker, interior and/or man-made settings) the struggle with this painting helped me realize that the #PandemicPainting series wasn't reaching its natural end-point.
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Much like the pandemic itself, I wanted the series to end and I wanted to move on, leaving the worries and thoughts stemming from the pandemic, and leading to the series, behind. But, nearly another year later, they both continue.

I shook off the hesitation and this ghostly contemplative figure emerged throughout a few weeks of painting and repainting. They're vulnerably waiting to return inside, back to the relative comfort and safety held within the gate. The figures stares back, determined, but seemingly resigned to their current predicament.

#53
Coiling Rope

​This painting was created before I had completely decided to embrace continuing the series. I purposefully used less water, employed more opaque paint, and made a point to feature some large flat black areas as I felt the depth and luminosity of the previous 50-some paintings were two keys that made them stand out from previous artwork.
I think this has a unique claustrophobia and tension to the scene. It harkens back to “Sharing Lunch”, one of the first in the series, utilizing the same green grass and red figures, but introduces a third who seems to inhabit a questionable role. While it has its differences from the first half, I think this painting played a major role in helping me realize the next step in the series, a move toward darker, more enclosed spaces with figures that created a more confrontational or intense atmosphere.

#54
Ghosts in the Forest. (better image needed)

In contrast to the previous painting, I knew I was returning to the series and initially felt like coiling ropes was going to be an outlier, perhaps not even part of the series at all.

I dove into this painting thinking purely about space and and using a lot of white. I wanted the trees to appears as shadows without much weight, and the colored "bulb's to float amongst the trees, reflecting off the snow and creating a sort-of "foggy-space" that had depth, but was very unclear. Ski lines cut through the trees while the figures in the foreground seem wary of moving further. 

I was closing in on the "haunting" atmosphere that was to come but still trying to stick with very light washes of color from the first 50.

#55
Black Pool

The first painting in the series to truly embrace a dark theme.

​Something grew stale in starting from a colorful base, and for this painting I had in mind a black background with a colored square as the starting point.

I quickly latched on to this idea of a darkened bathhouse of sorts, and fell in love with the way the colors jumped from the background almost like chalk on a blackboard. In contrast to the first half of the series, the next few have a different color palette and brought unique tension to the series. Where there was this kind of airy hope in the first 50, this painting established a much more somber atmosphere that would carry through much of the second year paintings.

#56
Vessels. (Harvest)

I wanted to fill the canvas with large shapes, removing depth from the scene and creating a large still life of sorts that brought a somewhat beleaguered figure into comparison with life that blooms when the season turns. 

The red flower bursts forth with life, reaching outward toward the dim sun. However the figure, in the same red as the flower, seems to wilt and recede. 

#57
In the Kitchen, In the Morning, Before Dawn.

Capturing that moment of silence and maybe even a dose of disassociation. For a moment, you simply enjoy the haze of waking up, smelling coffee, being showered in a sunrise, unfazed by the multitude of tasks and challenges ahead.
In the moments before you "enter society" and begin your routine, one can sometimes truly pause our constant concern and everyday fears.

#58
Fish in the Tub.

This painting is about residual anxiety following or during a stressful event. Even when peace has returned, the expectation of disaster seems to loom.
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#59
Ghosts.

The figure's attention is solely on the viewer, and there's an unclear, maybe uncomfortable exchange as you peer into what seems to be an intimate setting.

​This painting established a theme of eye contact between subjects in the painting and the viewer.

#60
Blue Room. 

A painting about imparting wisdom and hearing a counter-view from someone in what's perceived to be a lower status. In this scene, a student of sorts speaks ones mind and the "teacher" looks on intently. It is the exact moment before one either imposes their authority or welcomes differing thought in spite of their personal belief. The student stares out at the viewer with a dose of terror in their eyes.

#61
Candles.

The first painting in a long time not to feature the human figure (at least not more than an initial sketch if you look to the middle-right and flip the canvas upside-down) this painting came together rather organically. I began with inklings of a room and window and the upside-down outline of a figure to the right, but quickly felt this was too derivative of the previous Blue Room. I flipped the canvas and made three thick columns through the center of the composition, turning what was a shallow room into a blazing, vast landscape with deep sky and a hulking shadow. 
I didn't immediately think it was finished, but over the next week the simplicity of the scene grew on me and the contemplative nature of an almost empty landscape seemed as powerful as any figure I could have included.

#62 
Green Room.

I wanted this painting to be green. Not entirely or exclusively, but there was something about Matisse"s "the Red Studio" that I wanted to employ. 

There's a stillness to the painting, much like the empty room that it is, but the omnipresent green brings a potential energy. Unlike some previous paintings, I felt like the space presented here was open and refreshing, like a room with a breeze.

#63
Walk in the Woods.

Something about the candles stuck with me and I took on the similar object with a totally different palette that largely stands out from the series in general. 

A light blue dominates the canvas while darker tones play the accent role. Organic columns rise, forming a strange forest of sorts while a cowering figure carefully walks through holding a geometric object.

#64
Lost Where You Belong
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Throughout the series I had been working on various smaller scale drawings, including Dominion, a collection of 20 or so drawings that featured figures amongst lush landscapes. I wanted to bring a bit of that to the Pandemic paintings and "zoom out" to some extent to view the themes from a different perspective. Until this point (and for the majority of the remainder of the series except for a few) the paintings took place from perspective of stepping in on a scene right in front of you. With this, I wanted to get a larger look at the landscape. 

​While unique, I think it provides a needed moment in the midst of the series, removing the viewer from the immediate events and relieving some of the anxiety of the direct confrontations presented in the previous 63 paintings.

#65
Both Sides of the Bank.

This painting is about juxtaposition and I recall wanting it to be slightly uncomfortable. At first, before adding the trees and figures, it was a very pleasant and simple riverscape. I pondered whether I should stop there, but felt it just didn't have much behind it. Not that landscapes aren't worthwhile, I do them all the time, but at that moment it just fell flat. 

To be honest, I think the result is successful in that I do find it a little awkward in spots, but I also don't find it that pleasing so it's not necessarily one of my favorites to look at. There are aspects that I find intriguing, but the overall awkwardness of some interactions leave it lacking the harmony and beauty I get from the majority of the rest of the series.

#66
The Dream.
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The dream, a subject often explored throughout the history of art and therefore, almost a necessity in a series as large as this, fits in well with the themes of the Pandemic Paintings and directly addresses the juxtaposition of peace and anguish within one's own mind. 

#67
Lost in the Valley
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A companion to #64, and a beginning of the sub-series "structure", this painting has a bit of a sinister feeling to it, with all sorts of strange shapes and objects converging on the solitary figure on the right. 

This painting represents the negative potential of isolation, revealing secret battles faced despite intending to keep danger out.

This juxtaposition, the perceived safety of home versus the reality of one's own mental state when isolated, dominates the four structure paintings. 

#68
Constellations.

​I remember thinking that I wanted the roof to feel heavy and vast, as if it simultaneously acted as a barrier, but one that bred a a wandering mind, looking for some kind of message in the dark.
The figures pace aimlessly, barely defined, while the imagined objects and constellations float vividly overhead.

Meant to evoke feelings of insomnia, claustrophobia, and anxiety, this was one of the more direct reactions to the idea of "interiors" over a year into the Pandemic and various states of lockdown.

#69 & 70
Rafters (Left) Inside (Right)

The two smallest paintings in the series, these, once again, are based around the idea of containment, both acting as a protector and oppressor; Keeping one safe from the danger outdoors, but restricting life to one of tedium and anxiety.

Throughout the structure series I tried to hone in on the juxtaposition of "home" acting both as a safe-haven and prison, exploring depictions of space and homes in ways that seem disjointed, disconnected and contained.

#71
Tall Ceilings

​​The last of the paintings created specifically for the "structure" show, this painting, once again, depicts feelings of insomnia and restless sleep, showing a figure as they wrestle through the various thoughts running around their mind. 
​

#72
Inside Out

Flipping the script, to some degree, this painting throws the figures outside a very small window and lets the foliage dominate the scene. A commentary, perhaps, on the fear of missing out or the old "grass is always greener" saying. For the first time in the series figures seem stuck outside, clamoring to get back into the structure.

#73
Closed

Continuing from the previous, though much more simplified and subdued, we find a figure literally walling themselves into a dark room with black silhouettes standing guard. Inspired by "The Cask of Amontillado", this figure, in search of some sort of respite, has decided isolation and entombment is better than continuing their role with the outside world.

#74
Burden.

A large red figure strains beneath the weight of largely unseen object and gazes back at you with an expression that could be resignation, contempt, despair, or acceptance. How do you react to an encounter such as this?

#75
The Walls Grow at Night.

Large paddle-like leaves loom over a ghostly figure, stabilizing themselves on the hint of an unsteady chair. This painting is meant to convey the dread one feels when isolated and awake in the middle of the night, left with only the walls and objects to occupy your thoughts. 

#76
Smoke.

One of the more unique paintings from the series, Smoke was intended to evoke a sense of the impersonal interactions and a lack of humanity of those one communicates with.

As far as I know, the only painting in the series to lack any semblance of a setting, Smoke gets directly at the physical disconnection we felt while simultaneously experiencing an overload of digital connection in the form of zoom calls, slack chats, and virtual meetings.

#77
Watching a Daydream Through a Window. 

One of my favorites from the series, I remember wanting to create a view from a window that was mostly impossible and included a vibrant red stripe across the center, creating a harsh separation between viewer and scene.

#78
Wet Walk.
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This is one of the few paintings that I still would like to work on. I love the culvert but feel like the rest of the scene did not come out like I wanted and, eventually I moved on to other paintings and let this be. 

It's not necessarily bad, but I think more could be done to the top portion that would create a more intriguing scene.

#79
Cleaning.

There's a sense of dread in this painting set off by the red on red exterior showing through the glass doors. The two ghostly figures seem to lack the focus or humanity of other figures in the series, and the plants behind them are roughly, quickly, and barely painted.

#80
Floating Near the Boats.

I believe this painting was inspired by images from Tsunamis and floods and the inherent loss of control, even amongst modern infrastructure, that ensues. 

Here, rather than an image of devestation, you have someone choosing to rest on a floating log rather than trust the safety above water in a boat. Perhaps foolish in some regard, but for those that acknowledge the potential failures of modern society, understandable to a certain extent. 

#81
Gatherer.

A figure leans forward to pick a sinister looking fruit with waving appendages while ominous horn-shaped leaves guard the shore. There is a scattering of fruit in the foreground; perhaps our figure left them behind in favor of the more tempting selection across the bay; perhaps he intends to return with additional bounty, unaware of the looming danger posed by the horned leaves. There is a large shadow behind the main figure...or is it another figure itself? A blurry canopy and curved tree-trunk cuts off the sky and frames the orange figure, mimicking his lean. There's a sense that, as the figure reaches out to touch the mysterious fruit, the trees are leaning in to grab the figure. 

#82
Canopy

Where the flora acted as instigator in the previous painting, here it acts as protector by giving shelter from the rain for the figure's picnic. I wanted the tree to act as a second subject of sorts, providing a bit of warmth and comfort for the figure also becoming the lunch date in a way for what otherwise would be a solitary meal. The figure seems comfortable and calm, resigned to the situation and unconcerned for the meal either just consumed or on the way.

#83
Take Cover. 

Continuing along the trend, another tree of sorts takes on a character of its own. Once again we find a plant providing shelter in the form of two broad leaves. In contrast to the previous painting though, we find two figures that seem less than content with the current situation.

#84
Stables.

This is a unique painting in the series both because it has no human figures and it features animals, a rarity in the Pandemic series as well as my paintings in general. Where many of my paintings have purposefully undefined and interpretable narratives enhanced by mysterious human figures, this painting's meaning, especially in light of the pandemic lockdowns, seems pretty straightforward. 

A duo of horses stand behind a locked fence while birds fly freely overhead. The horses can see the birds and the fence even has openings to allow a clear view, yet they are stuck inside. The title refers both to a "stable" in which a horse is kept, but also has a double-meaning as a status; things are stable. The horses are OK.

In light of the pandemic this could be seen as a comforting message. In light of the fact that the horses are trapped, it could be seen as warning that "stable", though comfortable, may not really be the desired state.

#85
The Passage of a Year or a Day.

Unsurprisingly this painting is about the passage of time. A figure stands with their back to the viewer, looking forward at a very similar figure off in the distance. 

When time goes by fast, we often fail to fully appreciate much of what we're experiencing. When time goes by slowly, we yearn for more importance to the moments at hand. Either way, we often overlook our own ability to influence and control these realities until we have the time, energy, or attention to reflect.

#86
Cards with Ghosts.

I like most of the paintings from this series but I felt I found something a bit new with this one. Not only did the gaze of the central figure seem impossible to break from, but the deep blues paired with dark blacks touched upon a darkness I'm not sure I had ever explored before. 

I have always relied upon color, but its usage here seemed unique and effective. Cards with Ghosts has become one of the paintings from which I judge and compare the rest of the series. 

Cards with Ghosts addresses feelings of depression, melancholy, loss (mental and physical) and the overall sense of dread that pervaded even simple and menial tasks during the height of the Pandemic. We once jumped on Zoom calls with eagerness but now it seemed almost like a morose parody; Everyone was going through the motions but uninterested with this facade of digital "connectivity." We all very much were ready to get back to normal life but no one dared question when that may come or hold hope of it arriving soon. 

#87
Search & Find.

It's hard to start a new painting after enjoying the previous so much, but the darkness that pervaded #86 definitely reignitied a bit of passion for the series and helped dive back in. 

Search and Find brings back that gaze from the previous, but now with two figures differentiated by color, though seemingly part of the same search party. What they are looking for, we don't know, but the general sense of intrusion on the viewer's part leads one to feel as if you've made an unwelcome entrance.

#88
In the Face of a Fruit Bearing Tree.

This painting was one of the more literal in the series. It touches on questions of self-worth, purpose and value, and, in the midst of absolute societal malaise, compares humans with something we see as comparably inconsequential, yet in reality, constantly effecting that which surrounds it.

When considering how much a fruit bearing tree really does, how does one stand worthy and take from its produce confidently?​

#89
Sinking in the Swamp.

I've always thought of this as a companion piece to "Ghosts". I never got the feel of that one out of my head and went into this obsessed with that gaze, but I wanted something outdoors and I couldn't get the idea of aspen trees out of my head. 

Like much of the series, I really let water take care of a lot of the landscape itself. The majority of the composition is naturally occurring and I sort of manage it by adding more pigment here, rounding off shapes there and adding in others to create depth. 

The color was chosen to contrast "Ghosts", along with the brightness, and the central figure was purposefully left isolated, again to contrast the relative action in "Ghosts."

#90
Congregation.

My main goal when starting this painting was to include a larger number of figures. I felt relaxed and that the recent paintings, while successful, had come easy; I didn't want to get lazy or repetitive, so I set out to intentionally create a group which hadn't come naturally as of late.

I think this is evident in the painting and differentiates it some from others mainly due to the fact I painted the figures before the background. Where the other figures are simple and relatively clean, these feel bit more labored and worked-on. You can see many overlapping areas, linework added after multiple layers, shapes painted out; The landscape is a bit more fractured and reactive to the figures. Overall it just seems a bit more focused on the figures rather than allowing the paint to do its thing. I still thing its successful and powerful, but somewhat unique in the series for those reasons. 

#91
Moonlight.

This is one of the smallest pieces in the series and I remember the impetus being "can I reproduce the feeling of the series at a smaller scale?"

Inspired by Ghosts and Swamp, I tried to recreate that feel with a medium-sized canvas. This is one, comparatively, that doesn't work as well digitally. I think the larger scale paintings bring more complexity and energy when viewed at small scale on a screen. This painting seems a bit emptier...but when viewed in person at real size, I think it, relative to the large scale paintings, actually provides a nice moment of escape. 

#92
Meeting Place.

I struggle with this painting. There are aspects I love and things i hate. I still am not sure what side I land on but the overall reaction seems to be positive and, perhaps, I need to stop over-thinking it.

I remember starting with the idea of bricks and wanted to build a wall. What happened after that I wasn't sure about, and I think that's why I still don't quite know what I think,

I like the figures; it's one of the few paintings that has direct interaction. I like the wall...but I remember never feeling comfortable with the transition between the two, and it has always left me feeling like the painting is a bit unresolved. Perhaps a dash of purple or magenta in the curtains on either side would even that out, but I've not felt a need to dive back in.

#93
Green Smoke. 

This is one of the few paintings I'd call a failure in the series. I think the idea could work, but something with the execution did not and i never put in the time to fix it. Frankly I think i focused too much on starting with the leaves and didn't let the paint do it's thing. A more abstract background with less defined petals may be the key...

I believe this has been painted over, though I'm unsure with what...

#94
Rest.

From my least favorite to one of my most beloved, Rest took on a bit of its own life and was the only paitning in the series so far to inspire a mini-series of its own. Shown multiple times at a few galleries, the Rest series is one of the more direct and easily interpretable. The title and imagery direclty relate, and as we all rest and dream and have, at some point, stared at the stars, the basic setup lends itself to forming a connection with the viewer. Paired with it's dreamy atmosphere and attractive colors, it's no surprise this has become one of the more complimented paintings in the series. 

#95
Open Doors.

As the Pandemic was crawling into the start of its third year I was getting a bit stir-crazy. Things had opened up somewhat and there were options in terms of going out and seeing people, but there was still a great deal of trepidation and, at least for me, it felt like stepping on the wrong toe was just around the corner. 

I also wanted to explore more abstracted shapes that I had been using with the foliage and landscapes so far. Perhaps this was me getting ready to move on from the series, or perhaps I just wanted to play with shapes more directly, but this painting definitely gives more focus and personality to the atmosphere than previous paintings. 

Doors were opening. Whether or not we were truly welcome to walk through them was another question entirely. 

#96
Bloom, Burst.

This painting was inspired by looking at some Twombly's and, as usual, falling in love with the simplicity of his mark-making. I wanted to make a large canvas with large flowers. It just seemed so pleasant and relaxing.

As the painting progressed and figures formed, the field of flowers seemed a bit more like a sky of fireworks or bursts from an air raid. I immediately fell in love with this juxtaposition. 

Bloom Burst is one of my favorites in the series.

#97
Falling From the Window.

This painting, in my eyes, exemplifies the series as a whole. It utilizes almost all of the trends from the background wash to silhouetted foliage, window frames, glowing orbs, and the melancholic figure. 

Personally I think it's a little on the nose and over-dramatic (I was not at the point of throwing myself out of a window, for instance) but that also, in ways, accurately depicts how many did feel, how pervasive this entire situation really was, and maybe how many took their concerns a step beyond necessity. That's not to criticize people who took extreme measures, but just to point out how isolated and fearful many people were throughout the Pandemic and, to a lesser extent, still are.

#98
#98: Self Portrait

As the series neared the century-mark and I inherently felt it winding down, It only made sense to include a self portrait in such an inward looking series, and it only made sense for that portrait to include the anonymity that exemplifies the figures in the series.

In some sense, perhaps this reveals the series as a somewhat autobiographical exercise, but I think it also could be seen as a way to show a lack of ownership or control of the series by the artist through the depiction of the artist as one of the many anonymous figures that have so far graced the paintings.

#99
Leaving Town

​About starting anew, especially when you still felt a pull toward where you were and hesitation about what's to come. The intense, partitioned colors are meant to show various emotions and possibilities, as starting a new path never is entirely predictable and filled with uncertainty.
It's one last glimpse back....just before you're focus moves on to what's ahead.

#100

You probably should not approach the end of a series focused on the idea that the final entry needs to be one of its strongest members, but frankly, the final painting couldn't be a let down. The first try was similar in scale as the rest, but each time I went to put down a mark, I felt like I was doing something I had already done. 

It struck me days later that it, in a strange way, made sense to counter the scale, both of the previous individual paintings and the series as a whole, by finishing it off with something humble and intimate. 

The final painting was just 9x12" but, in my opinion, was one of the most successful.

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