Thesis Exhibition: March 8-11, 2017
Opening Reception : March 10, 6-8pm
Read around the rosie, Oil on canvas, 2016.
Blumesbury Blues, Oil on canvas, 2016
I’ve set my table. A few chairs for friends that might never come. All my plants have died. What more could one want to know? Is it what you really want? Aloneness. Gravel piles and rusted old potato harvesters in the woods, catching dragonflies that might have been sting rays. Two rows of raspberry bushes grew. I read it all red. Edges and angles. de Kooning’s mouths. One day I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Wandered into the root house after a cow had been slaughtered; it was strung up like a blanket – some kind of elegance in the hide. I remember the light quality still. I saw its apparition come to life once again in a Francis Bacon painting at the Art Gallery of Ontario. The view from the kitchen is all yellow. Canola grows there. Space and time. Time like the way the grain rushes into the auger and up the shaft. It never stops. Grows over and goes over again. He used to bring me rabbits from the field. I could tell their paws hated the linoleum; rabbits slipping and sliding around on a ground they’d never fully consented to tread in the first place.