I’ve only seen these paintings through the digital blockade; email, info dumps, rich text renders, and the like. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Between the syringes and through the digital eye I was able to make connection I might have glanced over; but as in everything the little goblins called details scratched on to the surface; scrapped at my awareness and gave me more than the painting may have intended.
It works like that, the paint, as if the intention doesn’t come from the hand of the artist, but from the agenda of the piece itself, but there’s nothing mystical. Just the place where Idea, composition, and reality meet and decide that peace is impossible.
One element of the painting is field a pattern of floating purple syringes laid out over jellied squares and rectangles; interlocked by fuzzy connections, like neural axons. In between the coins and jelly grids are painted golden coins ringed in blue and red, and it is all seen from an aerial perspective; god looking down on the city in 1986.
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