week 5 | behold

a painting, an object. all the yearning of its maker. 





















opening in the ground. body sinks in.




















steam the shroud. where details fade, truth pervades.  

week 3 | Range

week 1 | Touch

Roethke's I Wake to Sleep in serial skyscapes as I emerge from my morning home. The storyboard of light.

A collection of work produced in simultaneous overlap buttresses itself. I never know where the work is going. Dissatisfaction catalyzes a genesis in the next, often new media to fill the gaps of the antecedent. Viewed apart, the works only coincidentally stand on their own legs. Uncommitted to any one, there is freedom. Discovery unburdened.

Hold















Crumple















Roll

 Halve

Byproducts just as much subject as tool. Canvas scrap, fringe + thread.

week 4 | Trust

“I begin to long for some little language such as lovers use, broken words, inarticulate words, like the shuffling of feet on pavement.” 

Virginia Woolf, The Waves

The medium, the hand, the time, the vision, the process, the product, the viewer, so many battles with trust. Relinquishing the battle brings release . . . but, where do the standards remain? Geometry underlain readily obscured by emergent fecundity. Awkward, unsure, yet persistent (incessant?), from inside out the inarticulated emerges. I shall work to withhold judgement, to trust, as you suggest.

Week 2 | Provide

There was something in coming home for me in this week's word. Provide. Provision. All that the New England woods have provided, all that California continues to unfold.

The containment and expanse of each. Which gives more, the container or the expanse? Both have certainly given to and shaped my journey, more a matter of timing than amount. New England woods best understood in the micro; justice to California done in macro zoom. The intimacy and sublimity of scales, the confinement and the fears. And, yet, not such poles.

This week's work explores the continuity in both, the universal, the shared. Perhaps in search of essence for . . . for integration's sake? The mix and match of the works explore the anywhereness to the specificity of the seasonal turnpike to my father's house in southwestern New Hampshire.

How so like the arid desert that marshy pine duff and underbrush becomes in blur. How much detail to omit till the universal emerges?