Fortuitous because I had no idea what I was doing. Recovery because I realized I actually did. 20 years ago, I had no idea what I was doing. I abandoned what I thought I wanted to be: an architect. But form stayed with me since.

Using materials that bring me back to the zone of late night architecture school, I create a bas-relief series of basswood, vellum, graph paper, and graphite, designing fortuitous relationships between each element. Past works (Acrylic on Canvas, 2013-2018) are selected and inspired by the stacks of Rapson Hall, giving some conceptual grounding to paintings done intuitively, without thought of my architectural influences. 

I realized that forms stayed with me over time, like a memory of my first kiss or my mother’s spaghetti. The Grid showed up in my paintings from the beginning, organizing my work. I repeat this form to the point that I am no longer thinking about the action of making paintings. I get lost in the shape, and could be there to an almost infinite period. 

…the grid is fully, even cheerfully, schizophrenic…logically speaking, the grid extends, in all directions, to infinity… (Krauss, 1979).

The grid became a character in my work, no longer a formula. Pain was finding refuge in the never-ending creation of gestural squares all within reach of each other. It served as clarity for me because it was about relationships. Not just on the flat page, but between the person and the object, the drawing of objects and the space not used. This station point, as it is called, is a concept I knew before I knew the word for it, is how I have approached my work, knowing how it would land in the end in a space with a person standing and absorbing it all.

There was a point when I discovered that where the building ends, begins the life of that space, that I did not want to be an architect anymore, but, rather, one who watches intently to see what is built from that day forward.