My abstract, acrylic paintings are beautiful disasters, teetering between areas of messy chaos and calming deep breaths. The asymmetry represents feeling overwhelmed and hoping for a change.
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Music and its constant imbalance inspires me. When I was ten, my older sister barged into my room and changed the dial on my clock radio to the local rock station. My world turned upside down. I immediately connected with the dynamics of the songs crackling to life from that small speaker; a quiet verse, a loud chorus, then a quiet verse again. As an introverted kid, I was inside my head a lot. The music’s energy matched the scrambled, unspoken thoughts inside me, smoothing them out into long flowing ribbons.
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I create visual songs. To me, listening to rock while painting is like having a conversation with a longtime friend. I don’t just listen to the music, I react to its different emotions. As the singer screams in tune, I turn away and make frantic charcoal marks. Or at the exact moment the refrain explodes, I slap on a thick, unruly glob of paint. To contrast these intuitive moves, I include controlled marks, such as deliberate geometric shapes or straight lines drawn with a ruler.
My asymmetrical paintings offer a moment of rest to remind you that you aren’t alone when feeling mixed-up emotions. Beauty and hope exist within life’s perfectly, imperfect moments.
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