Polyurethane, custom vinyl decals, and acrylic on canvas
8 × 8 inches
Polyurethane, custom vinyl decals, and acrylic on canvas
8 × 8 inches
Polyurethane, custom vinyl decals, and acrylic on canvas
8 × 8 inches
Polyurethane, custom vinyl decals, and acrylic on canvas
8 × 8 inches
Decalcomania and acrylic medium on paper
18 × 24 inches
Decalcomania and acrylic medium on paper
18 × 24 inches
Decalcomania and acrylic medium on paper
18 × 24 inches
Decalcomania and acrylic medium on paper
18 × 24 inches
Decalcomania and acrylic medium on paper
18 × 24 inches
Decalcomania and acrylic medium on paper
18 × 24 inches
Decalcomania and acrylic medium on paper
18 × 24 inches
When I moved into my studio in 1997, some of the first things I ever made were graphite and oil rubbings of paintings whose goopy surfaces were shaped by a wrinkled plastic wrap coating. The drawings disappeared into a flat file, time intervened, and the memory of making them receded. Two decades later, gutting my studio for renovation, they reappeared.
I taped them to a wall-mounted light box, letting the color temperature cycle randomly between warm and cool: amber, gold, pink, blue, grey. I took photos on my phone. I was shocked by what appeared in my camera roll: compositions I hadn't planned, hadn't curated, hadn't even quite seen until the studio unearthed them and the grid arranged them. Something between a satellite image and a fossil record. I excavate these surfaces further in the finished works, rebuilding the found grid, scratching through their outer layers to reveal the inverted ghosts of painted history buried beneath.