The studio acts as the experimental incubator, where ideas, materials, and processes are explored freely. More often than not, the studio is a mess - paintings are stacked on top of each other, notes are scribbled on the wall above paint splatters and peripheral marks that bleed over the canvas’ edge, blurring the boundary between canvas and backdrop. I’m constantly shifting between freedom and constraint, acceptance and critique.
The gallery is different. The white walls act as a platform to exhibit works that have come to fruition, ready to stand on their own. Without any distractions to hide behind, there’s a certain vulnerability in the exchange between viewer and subject. Seeing the works hung together, in conversation for the first time, provides a crucial insight into the larger body of work. It also redefines the individual voice of each painting, giving it context and reference points.
The negative space in between the work heightens the focus on the painted surface, creating a silence that can be deafening.
Using a range of medium from acrylic paint to torn collaged paper, my new works represent intertwined moments. It’s an emotional language leaning on human qualities . A clenched fist could be a tightly wound scribble or an emphatic wash of color. The drilling sound of construction outside my studio window translates through a distinct scrape of paint. Each work in the show represents a moment and combined, the works become a series of chapters narrating a set of experiences.
My solo show, Keep Still, has come to an end. The paintings have been removed from the gallery walls, packed carefully into shipping crates, and sent off to their new homes. I’m left reflecting on the deep study of process that lead to this body of work - an exploration of how a mark can evolve and form a language built on a new vocabulary that is less literal but just as empathetic.
Thank you, Hashimoto Contemporary for providing me with a gallery space to expand upon my ideas. Photos by Shaun Roberts. Written by Heather Day.