Artist Notes

I use my painting as a way of storytelling. In this collection of drawings I use abstracted marks and simple forms referencing the landscapes of my surroundings. My work embraces my relationship with the stimulating terrain of places I’ve visited. These drawings are my visual reactions and interpretations of natural patterns that I have observed. By eliminating a strong colour palette present in my past work, and by using primarily drawing techniques, focus is given to the monochrome markings. These markings mimics the sounds and movements observed in my daily life. The drawings, made up of overlapping tonal fields, clusters of organic patter, soft swooping lines, and bold points of interest, together create a fanatical map that describes an experience. I aim to create something that is somewhat familiar, but yet ambiguous. I am interested in the slightly mystic and abstract. I try to turned a lived experience into something tangible, painting my relationships to particular places and moments. 

When I close my eyes and listen I can hear the wind. It’s distant. It may be coming from outside the window, but it could just as likely be coming from a memory. It’s a familiar sound and with a little concentration I use the recognizable sound as a portal to revisit this memory. 

With intention I listen harder to the wind sound. More specifically it is the sound of leaves rustling. Still with my eyes closed, I can see the branches of trees swaying from the wind gusts. The wind is caught up in this family of aspens. The fields surrounding them remain calm and motionless. From above, the forest looks like a patch of green, cold and shivering from the wind. It is this wind that brings the otherwise static trees to life. A single leaf breaks away and falls to the ground, only to be quickly picked up again, in a spiralling dance. It does cartwheels across the ground. The wind is invisible, and yet this leaf is illuminating its speed and motion, giving me insight into its path. I feel privileged to be able to clearly see the unremarkable. 

Taking control of my memory, I orchestrate a game. I dip the leaf in ink and let it be free again to play with the wind. I pluck several other leaves and do the same with them. The frolicking leaves interact with their surroundings, leaving a trail of their organic impressions. Somehow both complex and plain. Painted marks and ticks and lines are filling my mind’s peripheral. I open my eyes and grab my brushes.