The series was inspired by a visit to one of the oldest geologic regions of Iceland - the Snaefellsnes peninsula - in 2017.
I explored my memories of what it feels like to sense you are a witness to the creation of Earth, evoking the classical elements of earth, wind, water and fire. This enigmatic country is a land of waterfalls, mists, ancient lava fields and an incredible diversity of life. The paintings are done in oil paints and cold wax (a mixture of beeswax and linseed oil) on heavy acid-free paper, sized to fit in a standard 9" x 12" frame.
Kintsugi is both an ancient tradition of repairing broken pottery and a philosophy of embracing breakage and repair as an inherent part of the object. This series of paintings is an exploration into how the very character of the cracks alludes to vulnerabilities while simultaneously defining and revealing the strength of the rock that remains.
The sandstone cliffs that hang above the St. Croix River (Wisconsin) - peeking through gaps in the trees or creating dramatic silhouettes against the sky - border on the sacred to me, their origins pre-dating mankind’s existence here.
I set out to create my perception of the sandstone cliffs on small panels, with a plan to scale up in size and continue my exploration. As I was completing the first group, however, I had become increasingly interested in expressing something deeper: the evidence of time.
I cannot see wind, yet I see its evidence in the movement of the arborvitae outside my window. I cannot see gravity, but I see its evidence in a waterfall. I cannot see time, but the evidence is in the crumbling rocks of the cliffs.
This is the result of that deeper exploration. “Fissures” conveys time’s passage - the cycles of rain, snow, ice and in the distant past, glaciers that have carved and fractured the sandstone.
This collection came about after I read an article about the meltwaters of glaciers - incredibly transparent, turquoise blue rivers that flow from meltwater lakes that can form in mere hours. These rivers eventually dive deep below the surface, to the underlying bedrock and provide the means for glaciers to move toward the sea and eventually to calve icebergs. Greenland's glaciers are melting at historic, unprecedented annual rates. They are estimated to be gone by 3022 - with some research indicating this depletion timeline may be halved, to 2522, if climate change continues unabated. The inaugural works: "Encroach", "Overwhelm" and "Consumed" are a new approach to displaying art - in sequence (left to right, as listed) to show change over time. This collection will continue to evolve with the addition of new pieces.
2021 began with the intention of creating a body of work inspired by my backyard: the St. Croix River Valley. The sandstone cliffs suspended in the mists above the river - peeking through gaps in the trees or creating dramatic silhouettes against the sky - border on the sacred to me, their origins pre-dating mankind’s existence here.
“Ishpiming” is a Native American Ojibwe word meaning “in the sky”, an appropriate name for how I see the cliffs lining the river.
"An essential or indispensable element, condition, or ingredient."
I find that Autumn is essential for me. It reminds me that seasons come and go, and to embrace the beauty in the transitions. It is an interim season, one that invites looking back to the growth of the past and ahead to the changes that will come. It's chilly evenings out by the fire pit, seeing the stars spread across the night sky as the sun drops behind the horizon's shoulder. It's shuffled leaves on woodland hikes and rustling leaves, like rainfall, as the winds pass through them in the canopy above.
My work has become more introspective of self and the resilience/will of humanity in the face of seeming insurmountable challenges. In this series of works, I see life as a tapestry. During the massive societal upheavals caused by Covid-19, I'm in awe how people from around the world have discovered resourceful ways to regenerate connections with one another - in essence reweaving the tapestry of life by restoring and even creating threads. From the rubble of devastation, these threads provided crucial lifelines between relatives, friends and strangers, stopping neither for day nor night.
Verge can be both a noun - meaning a boundary or fringe, and a verb - meaning to approach or come near. It embodies the spirit of these works, inspired by my passion for coastal waters and in particular the coastlines of Cornwall and Angelsey, in the U.K. The series is a visual enquiry of my memories from several visits - the unceasing winds and crashing surf, the ancient rock histories revealed by the constant barrage of weather and sea, and the brilliant, shifting blues and greens of the ocean far below the cliffs.
An eclectic mix of works that evolved during the final months of 2020, reflecting ever-shifting emotions as the Covid Pandemic wore on into the winter months.
Small studies on paper.
These studies were done to explore thoughts about color, shape, and composition and are not 'finished'. IE, painted edges are loose, often without a clean border. Many collectors enjoy this as it shows the artist's hand more intimately in the work. Suitable to frame with or without a mat.
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