LONE STAR, TRUE BUT WHATEVER
There was I time when I ached for the world. Before cell phones, before social media, I felt the urgency of environmental damage, of social injustice.
Nothing seems to have gotten better. I'm not numb to it, but in some way I've become flip, a resigned humor like a layer of scar tissue between my concerns and the abrasion all around.
Still, I was surprised how playful these paintings became.
Disasters intertwine: Urns, much like the one that held my twin sister's ashes, a familial disaster, come to the forefront, variations of childhood memory. Images from photos I took in Port Aransas, where Hurricane Harvey made landfall, make up much of the work. Concrete dolphins soar defiantly mid-leap, still airborne, after the wind, the rain, wreckage all around them. Ribbons and caution tape and even literal snakes snake through it all. Dream motifs, primal.
I think these paintings are about resilience. The flag still waves, besmirched and loaded with myriad meanings, complex and problematic. Playful paintings, wounded and celebratory, made in what feels like ridiculous times, when even our most serious problems are met with unserious responses, absurd politics and social media noise, all sound and fury.
Watch the planet heat. Click, like, on to the next thing. Watch the cities flood. Post about the west burning. Count the likes. The dolphins are still at the top of their arc. The storm next time will be worse. True, but whatever.