Artist Statement
Over the past few years, I have grappled with the process of mental recovery. Moving through mental and emotional growth and decay revealed contrast in my experiences and relationships. As subtle changes in relationship dynamics gained my attention, I began to deeply observe and question my impact on others. Beyond the direct effects of my own actions, however, I also started to watch the transfer of trust and pain between those around me. I ask myself: how does one deal with grief or guilt without hurting others? Do I indirectly or unintentionally cause people pain? How do I preserve trust with someone else when I cannot do the same with myself? Why is love so rarely accepted, and why is it so selectively given?
The process of creating is self-indulgent; my goal is only to define my relationship with my existence. Art, to me, is merely a method of documentation. I put down everything I experience in a particular moment without too much forethought. The analysis of this experience exists retrospectively. By doing this, I can work to decipher undisturbed pieces of memory. Choice of media is directed by whatever is most readily available to me, resulting in a large amount of two-dimensional work. I pull imagery from my physical natural environment, whose impact is deeply rooted in subconscious association.
Lately, I have become more aware of how nature harbors a sublime and transcendental quality. It speaks to the fact that every aspect of my human experience exists as something greater than any single life. That being said, this observation deviates from the application of empirical evidence I use to define my world. Generally, I base myself on concrete actions without thought of any greater life. I have made it my goal to bridge this gap. Comfort often lies in concrete life and existence. On the opposing end, we have space, transcendence, and absence. There is a common inclination to compensate or impose something onto a negative space. So, how does one cope with said space? What do we do with the absence of life? How can we create and observe the absence of oneself? This, I believe, is the line between ourselves and the grand idea of purpose and mortality.
