I find it nearly impossible to engage in the abstract , my vocabulary is perhaps too concrete . In a brief attempt at schooling I was assigned a project in which I was to refrain from representation. I failed miserably .
I see figures everywhere , in water beading upon the shower door, cracks on a wall and in the drifting sand . It’s impossible for me to not embody.
Yet with stitching I find the randomness of my clumsy stitch work ( I am an inept seamstress, the “brut” quality is not an aesthetic affectation) reveals accidental non representational compositions. The compositions create themselves , I merely accompany them , needle in hand .
Of interest at the moment is mining the accidental compositions found upon my studio floor when working with needle . Fashioning my Stuffed Paintings is messy work , gravity and chance creates repeated patterns that I as a designer would be unable to imagine . I find them particularly poetic. I snatch them up and appliqué them upon whatever figure I am working upon .
There is something deeply gratifying in celebrating the discarded . As a queer man making work that is frequently as queer and having frequently felt disposable myself , elevating the overlooked is gently satisfying. This might very well be the overindulgent musing of an artist at work , but they are my musings . I leave them here , wishing all a tender holiday season .