This is my little corner. I just kind of wanted one. So here it is. Come sit in it with me. I'd like some company sometimes.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Your sister loves you.
Monday, May 31, 2010
The Coloring Issue and a Skull Quilt.

Thursday, May 27, 2010
Self Portraits from Photos
Monday, May 24, 2010
In Which I Discuss Mr. Waffles, Petunia, and My Bloggie Buddie..
Saturday, May 22, 2010
And the plushie invasion continues...


Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Frankie Turp, Maiibull-Eeen, and others.
Now that my painting class is over, I've been scrounging around for projects to keep myself occupied with. I don't sit well with doing nothing. It makes me depressed. Luckily I've managed to keep myself nicely fueled with all kinds of bits of doings. And I'm starting a summer metal sculpture class the 26th which runs for 5 weeks, so during that time my whirring motor of a brain should be happy :-)

Saturday, May 8, 2010
Artist Statements - Abstract Painting and Collage Projects
Knots in wood.
Steam rising from a hot cup of coffee on a Sunday morning.
A dead fly on the windowsill, legs frozen akimbo, fragile wings coated in a soft layer of dust.
Cracks in the sidewalk, shadows on the wall, peeling paint.
Rust.
These are quiet things. Their spontaneous appearances in our lives need to be caught and scrutinized, or else they will slip by unnoticed. They are soft-spoken and shy, we are deaf and too busy to listen. But even in their tranquility they are alive, and to me have a powerful intrigue, immense beauty, and grace.
in·ter·stice: A space, especially a small or narrow one, between things or parts.
I did not set out to create Interstices I, II, and III. Rather, I would say, they found me. I really feel as though these paintings knew from the beginning how they wanted to be. It was each of them who dictated where to paint and how to paint; I merely carried it out for them. In their entirety, these paintings are not part of the group of the quiet things of which I was speaking. It is in the spaces between all of the vigor, activity, and excitement that this simple placidness exists. Part of my method in creating these pieces was throwing water onto an already painted canvas, which caused an interesting eroded effect. I began calling these beautiful eroded areas “interstices.” I then filled in each interstice with white (or in the case of Interstices III a dark purple) so that their presence would not be passed by. I found this process very pleasing and not at all monotonous. As my brush traveled around each minuscule curve, I got to observe it and enjoy all of its tiny complexities. Despite the incredible individual attention that I gave each pocket of stillness, upon completion I felt strongly that they deserved further exploration and recognition.
I found and was inspired by Ingrid Calame’s paintings, which are the product of her stain, crack, and skid mark tracings. Employing her hard-edged painting style and bold colors, I created three “Twins” (one in conjunction with each original painting) inspired by the interstices themselves. Something that I find interesting is that once compiled and arranged into a composition, these interstices are no longer silent areas of rest. They become loud and bold. They want you to hear them. Showing the Interstices and their Twins together as diptychs rather than on their own acknowledges this transformation.
Collage Assignment (Currently Untitled)

Texture: Burlap, stuffing, pillowcase, stitching.
Consistency: Paint, glue, various acrylic mediums.
Action: Hand sewing with needle and thread, stapling, forming the “body” out of chicken wire, Twisting the “arms” out of wire and stuffing them, rubbing paint and mediums into the burlap, pulling the threads apart.
Many of these physical sensations overlapped as I worked, creating a kind of compound tactile experience that mirrors our daily existence.
I am aware that its tubular-like appearance is anything but inviting to the fingertips. I am aware that it is gross looking. But I believe that many people have lost touch with what is real in favor for more “comfortable” things. Our society is becoming further and further removed. We talk/text on our phones or listen to our ipods instead of interacting with the people around us; our food is so processed that it scarcely resembles its natural form anymore. We are squeamish. We are sad - that’s what we are. When I engage in the making of pieces like this one, I feel connected somehow once again. Touch it. Feel it. Squeeze it. Reconnect.















