I believe in the concept of the lighting bolt artist. I believe in the idea that an artist can see a piece in their mind in its entirety in a flash of inspiration. This is my process. I see things that other people don’t. It may be flashing lights, like stars. It may be something silly like a man sized fox jumping into a dumpster. It could be plasma wrapping around a series of trees, or burnt, falling debris on a snowy field. It may be a sun machine in the sky, bestowing magical powers onto me. Once it was an array of colors, a rainbow, through a darkened forest. The images last for a split second for the most part, but remain in my memory until I paint them. They want to be painted, and will pile up until I give them life.
Memory and Light primarily deals with this concept of a lightning bolt artist, and of the practice of electroconvulsive therapy. The medical industry will inform a candidate for the procedure that short term memory will be effected. What they won't tell you is that there are rare instances in which people have lost entire skill sets: the ability to use a computer, the capacity to do their job, the memory necessary to play the violin. So I thought it would be interesting to create a machine of sorts, sites in which to upload your most important memories and abilities before undergoing such a procedure. A backup, to be retrieved later should something go awry.
The Fire Series is about loss of control. There is a point of no return when the fire takes on a life of its own and cannot be extinguished. It becomes a living thing that is pure destruction , impulsive rage, and fury. This is mania. I am primarily interested in the moment when control over the fire has passed and the burning object must reach its transformative conclusion.
These paintings are metaphors for the experience of bipolar disorder and are equally transformative; changing a mental health challenge into something aesthetically beautiful and full of care is not only a way to give love to what can seem like a dark part of the human experience, but is also a way to sit with what is uncomfortable.
The Vision Series draws inspiration from time spent outdoors on hikes, the Hudson River Valley and the Adirondacks, imaginary spectral color environments, electronic stage lighting shows, psychosis, and 1980s cartoon visual effects.
I think of this work as an exploration of naturalistic, neosurrealist visions. Visually, they can border on sci-fi, sometimes fantasy, or even the supernatural, but always grounded in reality. An artist friend has described my work as an “arrival moment.” As if the viewer has finally acquired the final piece of the Triforce. I like that description.