Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images
The Waste Land, T.S. Eliot
Always looking to become his own god, man denies his inherent weakness. Never allowing for relief or reality, this denial and desire for control creates violence and frustration for one’s self, which then translates to the violence and oppression of others. Myopic creatures, we overlook the beauty that lives within dysfunction and disorder.
We are uncomfortable with ambiguity or paradox. We are uncomfortable with ourselves. Instead, we prefer to dichotomize in order to make things more manageable. What a painful irony then that in seeking to ignore our brokenness, we cause further damage and alienation toward the self and others.
But, what if humans were to acknowledge their frailty and lack of control? How would perceptions change if we were to hold in tension disparate ideas, rather than discarding one or the other? This is where, I believe, real healing and truth lie. In my work, I create abstract paradigms in which this wrestling between extremes, self-denial, frustration, and reckoning interact.
This work has been much more about an intuitive process and discovery then the means to a resolution or a finished piece. Using simple, almost trash like materials I hope to accentuate the commonplace vulnerability and imperfection of body and self. I have sought to balance the possibly disturbing tones in my work with an aesthetic sense of composition, color, and movement that allows for both attraction and repulsion.