Regarding the Other in horror and finding that Other in myself, it’s impossible to look at “Study of a Baboon” and not be sucked into a vortex of abjection and a struggle for empathy.
While both Murphy and Byrd use form as a means to make narrative works, they also create paintings that exist on a spectrum between solidity and erasure.
The cool confident stare of Marshall’s “Nat Turner” speaks directly to me as a painter, saying to accept without regret the task at hand and rewrite the master script of possibility.
There I was, standing in front of this beautiful, tender, poignant painting, unable to stop weeping.
They are simple yet complex, erotic yet spiritual, wildly designed yet perfectly rendered to fit both the scale of the object and the place in architecture.
Like art, the garden represents an insertion of personal idiosyncratic thought into a campus landscape designed to represent power, prestige, order, unity and corporate structure.
The gap between gazing through the window that turned the yard into something picturesque, and being in the yard with dirt under my fingernails, can be understood as one subject of my work.
…when performing actions they do so with zombie-like disaffection like flies stunned by a bug lamp, jerking sporadically into and out of states of repose.
Bonnard is no easy reach. The challenge he sets for all narrative painters is formidable: how to use both understatement and wild speculation to tell a bold story well…
Bonnard’s was a revolution in subject matter, turning a dining room table into a phantasmagoric carnival and a woman at her toilette into a primal spectacle…
If we were to think about the image in terms of language, it would be a noun or a verb.
The thin screens of constructed space, which I wade through at a sluggish speed, feel like the layers of a person you’re getting to know.