Here are the details for three chances to see my work in group shows this month – one in-person in NYC, and two virtual.
Things to Fall In Love With was the earliest drawing of these three pieces, and the other two were created in 2020. You can see how the series of drawings has evolved to include more colors and layers, and even the painting seems cohesive with this body of work. Sometimes my painting and drawing processes feel almost too distinct, but here things seem to hold together.
Building on pieces like the ones below, I have been doing more experimenting lately with layering painting and drawing elements together. Acrylic paintings over colored pencil grounds, ordering new paint markers, as well as making some paintings on found patterned paper rather than a background that is hand rendered.
Through May 1st, I’m making a selection of my recent winter drawings available for discounted / pay-what-you-wish pricing to anyone subscribed to my email list. I aim to send a studio update on a quarterly-ish basis. You’re invited!
I recently picked up these three drawings after the conclusion of “Darkest Before Dawn” at Ethan Cohen KuBe which was extended through the end of February. Really appreciated the pairing of these pieces with a loose gestural wall drawing that provided some warmth and high energy.
The drive to Beacon was all almost-green, everything on the verge of displaying springtime growth. The red flourishes on the wall below were part of a larger mural in the KuBe, which inhabits an old school building in Beacon, NY.
The stereotype of bookish people being homebodies always seemed true, except that after a year with nearly 10 months worth of home-bodying what really strikes me when typing this list are the visceral memories I have of the places (not at home) that I read the first seven or so books of 2020: Now, Now, Louison at The Commons Chelsea – drinking a latte from a mug, indoors in a tiny cafe around the corner from work on a break. How Should a Person Be? in a mostly-empty afternoon pub on a day I got off early after working an event late early in the week, where I stopped for lunch on the way to my studio. The food was bad but the bartender was nice. Say Nothing sitting or standing in the subway, drawing me in so much that I hardly noticed packed and noisy train cars on my commute.
Little Woman was a book I read (and loved) multiple times in elementary school but hadn’t read since. Like many others, I re-visited it in advance of Greta Gerwig’s film retelling which I then went to see/cry through by myself in a movie theater at a matinee showing, which was the last time I was in a movie theater at this point. (Little Women bonus content: this podcast episode, and this one built around theseessays)
In the peak of early spring anxiety and non-stop sirens outside, I turned to poetry when my attention span couldn’t handle more than a line at a time – Mary Oliver, paying attention as liturgy – and novels or memoirs written staccato-like with short chapters or shorter paragraphs that kept things moving briskly along (Dept. of Speculation, Ongoingness). Scriptorium was my favorite poetry collection I read this year.