has become more bold in that it has been dismantled.
A near naked reflection of all I love about the base instincts and elements of painting - pushing water, striking an interruptive mark that may complete a piece or render it to the scrap pile.
Pigment, though it usually be akin to the earth and not necessarily fashionable.
I manipulate my memories into abstract form.
Or perhaps it is formlessness. Melted down, if you will. Shadows swollen over land; carved intricacies in a cathedral threshold; that hue of blue I didn’t know existed until my eyes beheld it growing across a bay one morning; the way foothill winters feel
to my warm hurricane born bones.
Elegant and jagged. Flowing and contradictory.
It all morphs into abstractions - modern in their minimalism and use of negative space as part of the whole presentation. What is not offered via medium is to be interpreted and enjoyed right along with what is.
Breath to balance the demand.
portrait by Tara Ashton