The limits of language are the limits of my world —Ludwig Wittgenstein
Every painting of mine begins with language.
Some of these works comprise words, smeared with trowels. Some are words that are painted (or drawn) so large as to leave the canvas’ surface entirely. Others contain words or sentences are crossed out violently or redacted in other ways. There are visible words on some of the paintings, but only the simplest, crudest of words; prepositions mainly. Which is to say—out of context—these visible words, too, convey nothing.
In the case of the most recent series, “Whiteouts,” my words are completely covered by pure walls of white. All meaning is clandestine. And only wavering shapes and lines escape the thick, concealing layer.
With each of these artworks, only I know what lies beneath; what these paintings “say.”
2 0 2 0 - 2 0 2 4
🔴
🔴
🔴
0003
🔴
🔴
🔴
🔴
🔴
🔴
🔴
🔴
🔴
🔴
🔴
🔴
🕐
🔴
🔴
🔴
🔴
🕐
🔴
🔴
🔴
🔴
🕐
🔴
🔴
🔴
🔴
🔴
🔴
🔴
