“I have a space where ideas prompt paint and paint prompts ideas.”

Interview by Maddie Rose Hills

Your headspace while painting sounds specific, you say you 'discern the works passively as deja vu like memories'. Do you require a certain frame of mind to make the work, and how do you get there?

I say that because, to me, it feels like the work already exists in some template form as an idea, but to uncover that form into an actual painting takes work. There’s a communication that happens between the idea and the painting, and therefore it’s like building a relationship within each piece. A connection must form. The connection feels like it’s a state of mind, but that state of mind is tangled with the physical work. To make a frame of mind for painting I need to make a frame of canvas for the painting to sit on. Both frames provide an armature to project my ideas onto. Framing the mind is giving the mind a space to fill, in this case, the space is a blank canvas. The canvas is the purpose to paint made physical. With a physical purpose to paint and a desired purpose to paint, I have now created a space, shared physically and mentally, to pull into this “template.” Once the shared space of the physical and mental form, I have a space where ideas prompt paint and paint prompts ideas. This is where communication happens between my ideas and my paintings, and mediating the two happens intuitively, therefore it happens when I am still and quiet within myself to access a state of sensing.

Could you tell us a bit about yourself and your background? Where did you study?

I received my BFA at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago in 2017. That was school number 6 for me. Growing up I was consumed with playing music (trumpet and piano), so I started out pursuing music. I went to 2 music schools, and ran into a “Whiplash” (movie about a student with an abusive teacher) situation. That went south pretty quick because I lost my passion. I found it again facing my fears through traveling. Part of that was getting to explore jungles, deserts, forests, and other nature. This reconnected me to my interests I developed as a child with my dad and brother. We hiked all over western US (mostly California) to find gemstones and fossils and would collect butterflies and insects as well. I feel this intense scrutinization while exploring a larger nature is what taught me color and shape.

When it comes to finishing a painting, is there a point where balance between forms being unrecognizable, while hinting at shapes we know is just right, or are you relaxed about the literal interpretability? How long might it take to get to this point?

The form prompts me, and then the paint takes over. Unresolved forms exist to feature paint. I notice myself averse to some forms (mostly horizons, figures, and architecture) more than others. In my own work, I’m also averse to the idea of a picture (something totally recognizable) (even though I can see many of my paintings are pictures). When these take shape within my paintings it’s hard for me to let them exist. When I let them exist, it’s either an accident, an experiment, or because I’m pleased with how the paint is operating. Usually I love what the paint does too much to cover it up by finishing a form, so I will stop to let the form exist in limbo. Mystery in the form made directly from process usually happens when I stop closer to when I start a form. Sometimes the form is just one mark or, when it becomes too recognizable, wiping the form away. This all comes together to create a sense of place. If we can locate ourselves in a place then we might assume there are objects and things in that environment. With place comes the disposition to recognize things. When I put paint in a place, there’s this need to define and give function. There’s a sense of discovery because of this new object — paint. One might explore the process if there’s a desire to define this discovery. There’s an importance placed on expanding this world to include and know these paint marks. The amount of time this can take varies. Sometimes I have to sit with the painting in order to grow myself to a place where I can accept it to be able to finish it. I’ve sat with paintings for up to 5 years to be able to finish them. Other times the balance can come out in a few hours.

You use the term mind-space, what does this mean in relation to the work and how you wish them to be viewed?

Rather than being in our brain, I think of our mind as something accessed outside of our body connecting us to everything we have a social and physical bond with. For example our minds stretch to every location, person, language, or culture we’ve ever interacted with. Mind-space then is this morphing field in which the mind operates in. When mind-space overlaps, there lies a shared mind-space. Earlier I mentioned the idea of the template of a painting existing — I like to think that the template is formed as a unique intersection within mind-space. The painting template would be thoughts synthesizing the junction of experiences and ideas. The creation of the painting would be the artist resonating these junctures, fossilizing them through the drying of paint. The artist explores and gives mind-space in creating the painting, which reflects as the viewer receives and explores mind-space in response. The painting holds a world, an anchor from the artist’s mind-space. The viewers then resonate from this anchor point, expanding the world of the painting. They add their own intersections of mind-space to that which the artist sourced to create the work. The painting is the common ground between everyone who interacts with it. A painting becomes a space of overlap, a moment of shared mind-space. It’s like a bridge from a piece of one person’s mind-space to a piece of another’s mind-space. Even if the mindspaces contains different perspectives, the painting becomes the space of connection.

What artwork have you seen recently that has resonated with you?

Lately I’ve been to a lot of painting shows around LA revolving around the human figure —shows by Christina Quarles, Robin F. Williams, Tomory Dodge, Josh hagler, and Maja Ruznic. Each of them paints the figure with various degree of visual clarity, and they all share an intense investigation into paint as a material. Containing a wide range of process, they feature the different properties of paint while still maintaining the figure. When it comes to my own work, I feel dissonance with the figure, but when I see these shows I have no problem seeing the figure. This internal conflict and harmony has peaked my curiosity. As I hold these shows in mind, I’ve begun to see that I enjoy these artist’s figures because of their respect for paint. They strike a great balance of letting the paint be paint while adhering to the figure form. There’s some type of relationship they’ve created with the figure from that allows them to playfully control paint. The figure doesn't fight their process, but becomes a skeleton for their abstract processes to hang onto. I’ve been drawn to this because I sense, when it comes to form, the figure provides fewer, or perhaps just different, boundaries compared to my usual forms of nature. Problem solving with how materials can work within more constricted boundary forces new avenues of thought and mystery for me. The figure also carries so much attention and has the potential to outweigh the paint medium. I think to reach an equilibrium of form and medium requires a high intelligence, so seeing this play out successfully in so many new and different ways has been valuable.

Where do the titles of your paintings come from?

The work I put into titling can vary. There was one series, The Others, where I was taking scientific naming devices to invent names of species (for example Rhyzpod Xylzoa). I did this because I was painting these figures made of nature, so I wondered what they would be classified as. This caused me to explore the painting a bit more, finding different characteristics and functions of the figures. Also in my Jungle series I would take lines from my poems (After the Blur, Leaves Walk in Straight Lines) based on my time spent in the jungle (an important place where I decided to fully pursue art). There’s also the occasional literal titles, Moss on a Log. Most of the time I gravitate towards a memory or one of my ideas (like mind-space) that the work reminds me of. Then I arbitrarily describe that memory or idea. I like the titles to hold the undetermined state that some of the forms hold.

Is there anything new and exciting in the pipeline you would like to tell us about?

I actually just moved my studio out to LA, in Chinatown. That’s been pretty new for me, as I’ve always had my studio where I live. I also haven’t interacted too much with LA art world, so I’m excited to see what the community is like. Additionally, I converted my Isuzu Trooper into a camping car, complete with wet painting storage on the roof. So far I’ve been able to spend some time painting and exploring in Big Sur. Nature is a big inspiration for me, so being able to merge art and nature has been a great experience. I’m hoping to add more national parks to my list, and it’d also be amazing to have other artists join along.

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All images are courtesy of the artist
Publish date: 24/10/19