Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
2024
Monotype
20’’ x 16’’
Though I employ the language of abstraction, I consider myself a landscape artist. I acknowledge that my focus is more often on the scape rather than the land; a scape is usually considered a view or scene, but there is a dictionary definition that ties the word scape to the word escape. As a travel junkie whose imagery is fed by impressions and memories of place, I feel more like an escape artist than an artist of any other kind. Travel and walking are important parts of my practice; they set up circumstances for me to feel like a stranger. While navigating a labyrinth of trails in Skopelos, Greece; sliding through muddy footpaths in County Mayo, Ireland; pacing the streets of Chicago; exploring residential neighborhoods in San Francisco’s Bay Area; climbing the sun scorched hills of Santa Cruz, CA; and hiking in New Mexico’s Sandia Mountains, I collect images of organic forms, hard-edged shapes, plotted boundaries, and patterns fundamental to the natural and human-made world. I take in unfamiliar territory as I measure my mileage with footsteps, my loose sense of direction, and the rhythm of my breath. I imagine a map and wander inside one, noting transitions such as gravel-to-rock, curb-to-road, and public-to-private. My images are orderly and deliberate, reflecting both functional and frivolous interventions with the environment. My love affair with printmaking is a faithful and monogamous one. We support each other and, even after 30+ years of practice, I learn or teach myself something with great regularity. In my studio, I enjoy reminders and revelations as I make unique works on Asian paper. On the press and by hand, I use hard edges, drawn marks, and flat passages of color. Though monotype can be and often is a painterly medium, I work through the lens and experience of a draftsperson rather than a painter. As I explore new places and make images in response to them, I place pictorial and technical limitations upon myself to see how I can expand my imagination and navigate the magical transfer of ink from one surface to another.
2024
Monotype
20’’ x 16’’
Though I employ the language of abstraction, I consider myself a landscape artist. I acknowledge that my focus is more often on the scape rather than the land; a scape is usually considered a view or scene, but there is a dictionary definition that ties the word scape to the word escape. As a travel junkie whose imagery is fed by impressions and memories of place, I feel more like an escape artist than an artist of any other kind. Travel and walking are important parts of my practice; they set up circumstances for me to feel like a stranger. While navigating a labyrinth of trails in Skopelos, Greece; sliding through muddy footpaths in County Mayo, Ireland; pacing the streets of Chicago; exploring residential neighborhoods in San Francisco’s Bay Area; climbing the sun scorched hills of Santa Cruz, CA; and hiking in New Mexico’s Sandia Mountains, I collect images of organic forms, hard-edged shapes, plotted boundaries, and patterns fundamental to the natural and human-made world. I take in unfamiliar territory as I measure my mileage with footsteps, my loose sense of direction, and the rhythm of my breath. I imagine a map and wander inside one, noting transitions such as gravel-to-rock, curb-to-road, and public-to-private. My images are orderly and deliberate, reflecting both functional and frivolous interventions with the environment. My love affair with printmaking is a faithful and monogamous one. We support each other and, even after 30+ years of practice, I learn or teach myself something with great regularity. In my studio, I enjoy reminders and revelations as I make unique works on Asian paper. On the press and by hand, I use hard edges, drawn marks, and flat passages of color. Though monotype can be and often is a painterly medium, I work through the lens and experience of a draftsperson rather than a painter. As I explore new places and make images in response to them, I place pictorial and technical limitations upon myself to see how I can expand my imagination and navigate the magical transfer of ink from one surface to another.