Painting

artist's statement

This text comes from a response to a relatively simple question that a viewer of this site asked:

Your art has a lot of religious themes, why is that?

that's a very loaded question, but the it forces me to consider my work in its entirety to explain, so here's a stab at it:

i like to think that all of my art is religious. i am not a person of faith in any conventional sense. i never have been. however, i think there are ways in which people can express their spirituality outside of organized religion. for me, the impetus to worship/praise/celebrate something mysterious, esoteric and outside of and greater than oneself is channeled into my painting.

it doesn't seem such a stretch to me: art is one of the few things that, like religion or politics, you can never win an argument about. each person's conception and expression of any of these things is completely individual and always subject to interpretation; nothing is art and everything is art, depending on who you talk to, just as everything is god or nothing has anything to do with god, given your particular bent.

but before i get ahead of myself, a bit of background:

the christian church historically— from crude paintings on catacomb walls, through almost all italian renaissance painting, to modern church architecture (like frank lloyd wright's community christian church in kansas city) — has blessed us with nearly infinite volumes of concrete visual material to express transcendent themes, and i appropriate and expand upon some of this material to transform aesthetic objects into something more personally significant.

(as an aside, i'm trying to get away from this a bit, as i can't bear to part with the great majority of my work--not so good if i ever want to make a living as a painter.)

i studied a lot of African and Diaspora art in college, and i came to realize that many the religious paradigms expressed in the various practices— and their aesthetic objects— are powerful above all else for their sense of direct efficacy, that is, an 'i do this, i get that' approach. this ties in nicely with the western concept of, say, donating something to a church— people who paid to create 'personalized' altarpieces in renaissance churches, or just give a certain amount to their local parish— but more tangible and direcly personal. the most fascinating tradition to me was a practice of the Kongo peoples in which diviners, sculptors and their clients work in concert to create figures which provide direct benefit to the client. i've written about these objects, called 'nkisi,' at some length here (& others i don't seem to have online yet).

combining Western and African/Diaspora traditions and aesthetics is the basis for my work; even in something as seemingly conceptual and 'modern' as tryptych, a process of syncretism goes on still.

the idea of constructing an object that is both aesthetic, functional (in a religious/spiritual sense) and powerful is naturally not unique to African and Diaspora traditions, but the specific techniques involved in some of these traditions have provided great influence upon my work. the most obvious is nkisi 1, wherein i assemble seemingly random objects into a highly (emotionally) charged composition. more recently, trinket is a rather overt reference to an Afro-Caribbean diety representing the goddess of the sea. in this case, i have adorned the canvas with objects belonging my foremothers: mother, stepmother, grandmother(s), great grandmother. it is on the surface a beautiful object (anyway I think so), but it is also an altar to these women, and all mothers (including, say, mary), and as such is charged with a deep spiritual significance.

given that,

the last really prolific period i had was in the spring of 2000, when i was at SUNY Stony Brook trudging along through a rather dull time. in works like what you get and what you can expect and tryptych i made 'altars' to various issues i was struggling with, at that time mostly relationships. these pieces served as a sort of catharsis at the time, cheaper than professional therapy, and much more satisfying, as they transcend words and thoughts and express my emotions directly: the idea that 'i do this, i feel better' pervails, somewhat akin to doing penance for sins; the exhausting task of making art made me contemplate my decisions and actions and lay them bare to the world (or before god, if you will). their frankness and graphic imagrey underline this; like in the confessional, nothing can be held back.

my painting sort of dropped off after that, with the notable exception of the only work i did in 2002: the four evangelists, a completely tounge-in-cheek treatment of the four men, in this case cast as a pop group of four hunky boys hawking signed posters. here i examine christianity more direcly, calling into question the aesthetic dogma of the traditional christian church by undermining the sanctification of the evangelists and casting them as ordinary people made famous by circumstance. i was happier when i did it than earlier work (it's much less serious), and could take on organized western religion for what i think of it. however, it is in no way intended to be blasphemous: i have distilled the concept of four guys writing the Word into the more modern, pop-culture-y metaphor of the 'boy band.' the evangelists are central figures in another work, the evangelists spreading joy. it takes the concept even further, likely beyond the point of tastefullness, but anything worth doing (in art) will probably offend some people.

also,

many pieces also deal with personal history directly. the aforementioned trinket can be considered with veve, a piece that was covered (alas, it was lost in the move to seattle) with train tickets, plane tickets, subway cards and the like documenting my various travels around the region (new york city metro) and country (boston, orlando, etc) looking for companionship, or fun, as the case was usually. it is a solemn piece and was even displayed covered with two panels of embroidered linen much of the time; like a torah in its ark, it codifies my life experience during that period: incomprehensible, shrouded. the piece intended to replace it, map, attacks personal history even more directly, showing an overhead view of Manhattan island composed of random bits of paper i saved while living there: tickets to shows, musuem membership cards, etc. map serves as an homage to my time in new york, a densely textured experience, distilled into a powerful icon of the city: a map of its own boundries.

so, basically:

rather than praying (to god or allah/buddha/other similar deity), i offer my work, for what it's worth: as sacrifice, as praise, as testament to human experience.

tradition (influcenes) knowledge (which followed by) experience (becomes) memory (becomes) history (becomes) nostalgia (becomes) reverence (and is constituted as) art objects.

june 2003, seattle, wa