There is no visible demonstrable truth that is unveiled when a surface is distressed and a patina released, when the line is blurred to invisibility challenging the viewer to perform reconstructive surgery in the mind’s eye. The satisfaction of putting something together that came apart a long time ago can be cathartic. A process that allows the viewer to listen to a painting, to indulge the evocation and carry it away with them when they leave. The content being the subject matter presents a freeze frame of a story through which the viewer can go forward or backward to release the story from the present. A pleasant picture is ultimately satisfying.
Just as there are eight intervals in an octave so there are limited number of ways a mother can hold a baby and if I were to paint a mother and child I would invariably be referencing a previous painting since every permutation of mother and child must have been done but what makes mine unique is my expression in the context of my narrative.
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