I am a process-oriented artist. I do not start out with a concept or a plan, I begin with an individual element, and allow the work to evolve, taking my cue from the energy that is set in motion with the addition of each new element. I embrace Richard Serra's belief that "work begets work."
The works exhibited here are all archival pigment prints. They were created from photographs, paintings, illustrations, drawings and prints that I have previously made. There is also borrowed imagery that has been photographed or scanned and then altered in Photoshop.
Scale has become a critical tool in my process. A digitally produced image is enlarged and begins to pixelate, it can break up into new and unexpected shapes, and become more transparent revealing new areas of color that were previously hidden on the layers below. It seems to mimic the process of erosion that takes place on outdoor billboards and ageing walls in which text is slowly transformed from a narrative element to glyph.
Early on, walls became an element in my work, or more precisely, an attempt to capture the fantastic shapes that light could create between shadows on a flat surface often giving the illusion of solid form.
I love posters - the more ripped and ravaged, the better - as much for their bold text and graphic and colorful shapes as for the memories they stir of the movies of my youth, and the actors who peopled them: John Wayne and Errol Flynn, Newman and Brando. Ava Gardner and Rita Hayworth, above all, Marilyn.
As I make new work, I have the sense that I am engaging in a dialogue with every artist I have ever admired. Matisse and Rotella seem ever present as I employ Photoshop to tear and cut out and reshape images and areas of color and redeploy them in new compositions entirely divorced from their origins.
I have a predilection for working in series, a function, perhaps, of having lived with four Warhol silkscreens of Marilyn Monroe for many years, and the daily, unending dialogue with them that seems never to end. The series become a record of my process as they cease to exist alone and take their place in a sequence.
As a process artist, the moment of choice is paramount whether in the act of taking a photograph, buying a work of art or making one. Out of all the possibilities that exist at any given moment, why choose, make, buy “this” as opposed to “that” or “that” or “that” or “that.” It is a mystery I have come to embrace.