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.
I was a little nervous about recording my studio tour for Bushwick Open Studios a couple weeks ago, but ended up really enjoying myself! Keeping the camera facing the artwork allowed me to simply focus on discussing what I was seeing, as if I was walking a friend through the studio. (In fact, I sort of was – friends and family were able to tune in virtually who do not live in NYC and wouldn’t have been able to attend an in-person event.)
This studio tour touches upon several key elements of my creative practice for the past year or so: intuitive composition, focus on repeated and overlapping patterns, and daily writing practice. This conversational way of moving through the studio felt helpful because it allowed me to point out connections between different processes as they arose: similar composition processes for paintings and drawings even though they look very different, looping line drawings which mirror cursive handwriting, etc.
The video tour, saved below, runs about eight minutes in length. I hope you enjoy!