In March of 2020, my panic buying was at the paint store. When I ran out of canvases, I dug into a stack of paper that had long lived under my studio futon. I cut the large sheets into shapes and painted until they were thick as leather. Discarded boards, also laying about the studio, were jig-sawed to resemble the paper works. I painted these surfaces for months on end. Distinct, figure-inspired shapes appeared, sitting comfortably around and on top of each other. Color and texture attempted a congenial relationship. With a new, motivating body of work to occupy me, the cancellation of planned projects and exhibitions seemed more like opportunity than loss. As one curator wrote (about this work) “there is joy and exuberance even in isolation…we can be resourceful and creative if we use what we have at hand.” I vacillated between titles “Changing Bodies” and “Bodies Change” as a nod to the inevitable, a less dire look at what we can not control.
These days, as before, anything in the studio is fair game to become a newly found object on which to paint. Prior works, at one time considered resolved, are now repurposed with motifs I have been exploring on and off for years. Merged together, I recognize a subtext which supports and expands the origin of these works: unplanned, unhurried and without pre-determined destination. I am mining my own art history to observe the impact of time on ideas and ability.