Wabi-sabi embraces the natural cycle of growth and decay. The life of an object and its impermanence are evidenced in patina and wear, including rips, any visible repairs (scotch tape or glue) or additions: pen, ink, stains, pencil marks.
My work is born out of my need and desire to simplify and/or reduce each moment to its absolute essential, by removing details from life that tend to obscure what is truly being experienced.
“Once I saw a barge with a small very happy dog patrolling the deck, he seemed to have a good life travelling the canals and rivers.”
So what remains after you lose everything? When water or fire or clumsiness or meanness or a pandemic or cancer or war or ignorance and obsolescence changes everything–breaks everything, what do we do with what remains? We make art.
Light, space, scale, shifting light, and a new way to look at buildings you pass every day: A discussion with artist Mark Oliver.
“That was Messing’s Horse at the water trough. Elijah recognized the blue pack roll on the back like the agent had described. Finally, he thought. The man moves fast for someone with nowhere to go.”
Although I work with the feelings of loss, mortality, and the power and delicate nature of memory, my work is a reflection of my attempt to live my life in fragile exultation.
There really is no explanation for the creative process, I can only say that from time to time I find myself crawling around graveyards…
The Leaves of Poets had been a title jangling around my head for a while and this first attempt has been made with leaves found on the grave of JRR Tolkien.
“I documented my work but also everything else I could find graffiti-wise, then the spaces where it always seemed to appear started piquing my interest. “
But there’s such a strength to her work, such a depth of color and texture, such a sharp slicing perfection of composition, that these things become beautiful, notable, and important. They often have a sort of glow to them that elevates them beyond the every day.
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