Our eyes touch the painted surface; it is woven, torn, creased, and frayed. The surface has been touched by materials that penetrate the fibers and soak them to their core. The body of the painting bears traces of force, of wringing and perhaps pounding; but also those left by the lightest touch. There is a sensual history written on its surface.
In these works, touch is evidenced in both the method and subject. It is visible in the ways that materials interact with one another: a gently placed piece of fabric leaves a faint mark on the surface of another. Or a swath of material, saturated with pigment, is wrung through a mechanical press. Through these gestures, my work intends to continue to a conversation with the history of abstract painting and conceptual art.
They are not monochrome or object, not composed or imagined: these works are performance. Their choreographed surfaces, arrived at through repetition and process yield incomplete fields still in flux and never reaching a final resolution. They are not a Richter, Truit or a Kelley surface. Nor are they a Rothko, Newman, Stella, or Palermo surface. Not a Hantai or Buren surface, they are something other; they are ground, a floor lifted to the wall. It is their ability to absorb one event after another that leads to their precarious and peculiar beauty.