Wish You Were Here

I wish you were here. I wish you could experience my paintings bodily. You see, I don’t see my paintings as images. I’m not trying to illustrate the human condition or make comments on culture. I believe that art is an experience; culture is something you learn. You don’t need to learn how to look at my paintings, you’ll notice the subtle shifts as you walk up to them—how the surfaces refuse to settle like they should.

You have eyes, perception; you’re born with it. You have a brain ready to argue with itself. Your logical side strives to understand, to make sense, to be right. It keeps trying to tell you that there are some geometric shapes painted there. Clearly defined sections are marked off. Some contain squiggly lines, and some hold flat colors. But things don’t quite add up.

Depending on where you stand in relation to the works, your perception shifts, refutes what is actually there—flat paint on canvases. Those simple geometries may not be so clearly defined after all. They break apart and reform, take on new configurations by combining with neighboring shapes. The longer you look, the more shapes appear to fold, tilting forward one moment and dropping back the next. Even the squiggly lines shift. At a distance, they look drawn freely on black backgrounds, but up close, they become highly considered knockouts, threading bright backgrounds through and pushing the blackness behind.

What are you to believe, your logic or your eyes?

Well, seeing is believing, isn’t it? So, if you’re looking to understand, consider the fact that much of what you believe to be true comes through eyes whispering lies to your brain.