The rider paused at the ridge overlooking the valley through which he had just traveled. He was overcome by a feeling that he couldn’t quite place. A sense of belonging, of joy, of melancholy.
Though he had no reason to believe it true, he sensed the presence of those he knew, having passed onward up this very trail. The light was fading and shadows pushed out spaces of definition, filling them with deep greens and purples. The distant songs of mourning doves and poorwills added to his suspicion that this place was a part of him, a part of those he loved.
The rider lived in this moment for a space of time, and as he turned his horse to go, he spoke out loud to no one but himself, that he would return someday.
To define something, can rob that thing of what sets it apart. At least this can be true of things we feel, knowing that they are special. When we inhabit a space, we align the objects in that space according to our needs and how that arrangement might best optimize the space itself. Through the process of a number of practical decisions, something else happens: the house becomes a home. It becomes imbued with the essence of who we are. I use this as an example, but it applies to other areas of our existence. An art object might bear a striking resemblance to a utilitarian object, but the art object stands to give off a certain energy. Fingerprints may exist in the surface, a chisel may have passed quickly over a surface leaving the impression that the artist was moving both fast yet intentionally. Or a landscape, during a certain hour, bathed in the right light might have an otherness to it. One might stand in a sacred building and sense the energy of the hands that placed every stone, adobe brick or timber.
With this body of work, I set for myself a very basic parameter: I would try to make objects that would give a sense of energy. Not only energy in the literal sense, such as fuel or expended energy, but also energy that indicates a presence, a lightness or a tension within. The only rule that I had was that the making of them must always be moving along. As soon as I felt that I was getting bogged down in the craft or the concept, I would set that object aside and start on a new one.
I then felt I needed a means of projecting the thoughts that came to mind while making these sculptures, so I came up with a road map. The painting became a means of “thinking out loud”. To convey the connectivity of things and ideas as well as the disconnection of them.
Throughout the painting the viewer will see not only schematics familiar from the objects on the table, but also the images and relations that came to mind during the making of them.
Lastly, I’d like the viewer to think of the video as a palette cleanser. Following the rule that energy is neither created nor destroyed, it matters not where the viewer begins or ends watching. These are moving images contained in a box, the flow of their movement intended to produce simply a calming effect.