Sketched, built, carved, drawn-on, dis-assembled, rebuilt, painted, tethered, clamped, tinkered-upon and appearing as useless vessel forms (some of which have been evolving for over a decade), these sculptures play off the forms of tools, toys, and boats and have layers of mark-making and painting that contribute to the building of a vague history.
Some are ruminations on the idea of an ark. And they aim to be (in their own idiosyncratic way) well-made and innovative in form. Perhaps they are beautiful.
These process-oriented works take a winding path to completion, evolving from continuously redrawn sketches and traveling through many transformations before being cut apart, reassembled, and reworked. Parts are often transplanted, left behind, or recycled. Curious inspection and patient observation reveal previously unseen drawings and room-like interiors, many with small chairs and ladders that suggest a narrative of previous inhabitation.
It’s not lost on me that my studio is the garage. And I’m in the studio at night tinkering with memories and thinking about the things that men build. Have we built good things? Am I building a good thing? Is this personal and artistic self-doubt? Well, partially. But more importantly, I hope the work communicates a serious and intentional examination of the creative act and of the nature of “building things” in general.
Then again……….it could just be about the pleasure of making and re-making. My creative process is one of experimentation and re-use, and the artworks wear their truth (the history of their own creation) “on their sleeves”.
The drawings are centered on goofy-looking dead birds surrounded by many cartoony flowers and tanks. These characters often occupy my imagination and show up as obsessive doodles. The image of a dead bird is potentially symbolic of so many things- death of beauty, environmental disaster, loss of innocence, and perhaps even Christ. We live with the consequences of our collective brutal humanity.