My focus in my work is to try to see things as they really are, and to try to set aside what I think I’m seeing and what I think I know, so I can find the bare truth of what’s in front of me. This is always the challenge when I’m drawing. Learning to draw is actually learning to see, and drawing and image-making helps me to redirect my brain to see the truth of what’s really there, not just what I think is there.
This process extends far beyond making art. There’s a constant presence of smoke and mirrors churning all around that keep us from seeing the real and devastating consequences of greed and capitalism, the wealth gap, systemic racism, patriarchal norms that are just taken for granted, gender binary that’s just taken for granted, etc and so on and on.
In my work, I’m focusing on trying to cut through stories and myths and labels - political, personal, social – in attempt to understand who I am and who I want to be, and to see how we’re all built - in spite of how we’ve learned to think and see things.
I’ve worked with soft pastels since 1999. I loved the luminous depth of color in pastel, the physical feel of the chalk, and learning to draw. About a decade later I accidentally discovered block printing, and a library book taught me about reduction printing. This is a process where you can print multiple colors from a single block. The paper and the block are lined up to print exactly in the same place, and the block is gradually carved away, printing a succession of colors over what was printed last. Eventually, the block is “reduced” so that all that’s left of it is the final color. Through the use of movable type, presses, and the versatility and precision of letterpress, I incorporate words inside the frame of my images, and I find that the combination of the two can be so much more meaningful than the sum of their parts.
With letterpress and linocut, there’s a special kind of alchemy when you combine solid, specific, concise words with a rougher, imperfect handmade image. It’s as if the image has the kiss of humanity, and the words are more mechanical and solid. Like complementary colors, they complete each other, and they command more attention and consideration together than either could separately. In my printmaking work, I strive to use this particular language to deliver optimistic and honest messages, especially queer art that’s positive and affirming, particularly for kids.
This process extends far beyond making art. There’s a constant presence of smoke and mirrors churning all around that keep us from seeing the real and devastating consequences of greed and capitalism, the wealth gap, systemic racism, patriarchal norms that are just taken for granted, gender binary that’s just taken for granted, etc and so on and on.
In my work, I’m focusing on trying to cut through stories and myths and labels - political, personal, social – in attempt to understand who I am and who I want to be, and to see how we’re all built - in spite of how we’ve learned to think and see things.
I’ve worked with soft pastels since 1999. I loved the luminous depth of color in pastel, the physical feel of the chalk, and learning to draw. About a decade later I accidentally discovered block printing, and a library book taught me about reduction printing. This is a process where you can print multiple colors from a single block. The paper and the block are lined up to print exactly in the same place, and the block is gradually carved away, printing a succession of colors over what was printed last. Eventually, the block is “reduced” so that all that’s left of it is the final color. Through the use of movable type, presses, and the versatility and precision of letterpress, I incorporate words inside the frame of my images, and I find that the combination of the two can be so much more meaningful than the sum of their parts.
With letterpress and linocut, there’s a special kind of alchemy when you combine solid, specific, concise words with a rougher, imperfect handmade image. It’s as if the image has the kiss of humanity, and the words are more mechanical and solid. Like complementary colors, they complete each other, and they command more attention and consideration together than either could separately. In my printmaking work, I strive to use this particular language to deliver optimistic and honest messages, especially queer art that’s positive and affirming, particularly for kids.
