Posts from ‘January, 2009’

In Progress: 1/11


Oil on wood panel. Portrait-in-progress.


Oil and encaustic on skateboard, originally for “Horror in 1940’s New York” show at Recriprocal Skateboard.

In Progress: 1/6


Oil on linen…

Inscrutable Icon

The dumb, mute pillars of my imaginings.

They populate the horizon, bubbling across it like pox. They don’t say anything, they don’t give, they don’t take. They don’t ofer insight, they just are. Like so many other elements in my work, they just are.

They appear and re-appear and promulgate without explanation or reason. What do they represent? What do I have to do with their appearances, if anything at all? What do I have to do with my empty landscapes, my bridges, and my men made of holes? How am I privy to their audience? Why does my inspiration take the form of inscrutable icon?

And beneath the night the shapes of men and sometimes-men haunt my gaze, under a sky lit with halogen and starlight. A roiling, boiling chaos begging for me to joins its tempreate and furious tranquility. We are all being watched. We are all dwarfed. There is no escape, no recourse, no philosophy against the final “IS”.

The Vast Spaces

I am looking for architectural, industrial evidence.

The spaces in-between, all across America. Recognizable elements across an empty panorama. We have created these forgotten landscapes, in-between-scapes of scrap and basic shape, across flatland. Barely connected. Barely connecting one place to another. Globalization, has it created hotspots, and vast, contemplative, ignorable spaces of in-between?

Gravity wells of consumption, artificial human by-ways along the path to real webs of traffic, human piles. Low buildings and high towers and deep warehouses and containers and shallow chasms that are encompassed by the weight of the sky. And the weakness. The insubstantial nature of the ground it’s on. The ground it is on, which is so easy to flatten, to sculpt.

What is so inspiring about a girder? What is behind the secret joy of staring into a web of rusting metal, a tangle of steel and iron? Is it the inspired idea of a husk of industrial civilization, the whispered glimpse of a post-apocalypse? In my mind’s-eye, I skid and slide along endless powerlines. Sledgehammer into concrete to wrench out the rebar. Watch towers of scaffolding fall into piles of skeletal bridges.

It has become so easy to fly by the vast spaces.