06 March 2013


In November I had a show at the Lost Dog in Durango. It was a show of old barns--paintings I have been working on for years and weeks. These are tiny works on paper and large canvas pieces. A total of 30 works in the show. 
Here is my show statement and a few pieces:

people talk of coming home and all I can think about is going home

i am standing in a jungle of kudzu- wet with morning dew- breathing in the first light as mosquitoes try to tell their stories loud in my ear

its only dawn and sweat starts to form on my arms. or  condensation from the air- heavy with moisture- pooling as it meets my cool skin

fields resurrected out of marshland, every square inch used or taken over by beautiful suffocating vines and swamp. the path to the old house is a faint line carved out of the cotton rows

picking our way along narrow twisting roads through forests so overgrown you cant see a way to travel through the brambles

a truck coming from the fields throwing fresh tobacco leaves like confetti as it plods down the highway

lost in hollows and valleys- deep and dark- where the rolling hills and massive ancient oaks block the heat of the sun and sweaty skin gets chilled

buildings that feel like they are mine, but they never were

piles of splintered grey wood around vacant doorways and windows warped from burdening roofs

structures built for a need that has since become obsolete. function is now a shadow or a glimmer of a once glorious past

sipping tea that is more sugar than water and feeling the fullness of family on a porch- screened against the onslaught of evening bugs. the cool breeze of evening accelerated by fans overhead

laughing loudly, to be heard over the crickets’ clamorous song

before her time

after the flood


sweet cream


bard owl

sunday meetings

dusty and slightly sweet


open slats

headed home

kudzu and cotton

front door


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