Only memories remain
When I was 19, I found my neighbor's body in his front lawn after he committed suicide. After passing that landscape for years, I began viewing it differently. Landscapes have become for me places that hold pain, anguish, and blood in spite of their outward pastoral appearance. Beauty has a way of being indifferent, and the sun continues to shine. How we construct a narrative around a place defines our relationship of the landscape.
These paintings are my investigation into the relationship between landscape and memory and time’s effect on the intensity of experience. As one looks from panel to panel, there is a sense peering out from the passenger seat as you drive by cornfields and small towns at 60 mph. The repetition begs a reconsideration of place and the hidden histories below the surfaces of seemingly mundane landscapes. There is no climax in these paintings. We pass by the site of a suicide and end up right where we started again.