"Bones are patient. Bones never tire nor do they run away ... They are satisfied. Patient. Dependable." — Tom Robbins
Art is a way to tell a story. Stories live in the details — the bits and pieces revealed over time. To be a good storyteller, I think you must be a patient and keen observer. I think you must have a generous eye and a willing heart. Stories are what we dig for in our quest for artifacts and fossils — all that remains to be seen. Which makes its way to our bones — fragile, elegant, beautiful bones. They are what is left, solid and unassuming in their essential staying power. The unchangeable armatures on which entire lifetimes are hung. They make everything around them witness and accomplice to their days. And in the end, bones rest without tension in beds of surrender.
I have come across these bones along the shores of Lake Ontario — where they rest in private repose. They are small and unassuming — somehow both sturdy and vulnerable. There is an intimacy to finding remains — to get to the part of the story where we are picked clean.
The originals of these pieces were painted in gouache and ink — many thin layers of paint that build and ultimately sit with command on the surface. The paint is poured and coaxed and pooled, directed by brushes and gravity. Painting is active, a wet surface is awake. It is a process that requires patience, time and a certain degree of fearlessness. I trust the process — choosingthe media and the marks with great intention — as silver platters might be polished to serve up certain treasures.