19 July 2026
Goodbye ground (working title): I've had a few variations on a painting of a curtain reacting to a force (thinking of it almost like a gut being punched) lying around the studio for a while, and this may be the first instance of one working. I think the reason it does occurred somewhere in the process of two unsuccessful paintings merging to supplement and solve one. This has happened a couple of times now in the development of this recent body of work as I've begun to notice visual or sensorial similarities in seemingly disparate subjects. In this case, while working on the curtain, I had also been attempting to paint a cloud formation I saw over Spiaggia Blue Moon in Lido. It looks like a large, flat, gray-blue mass of fabric billowing across the sky, like a flag or a stage curtain moving right to left, with a small tuft of white cauliflower cloud sinking itself into a wrinkle near the bottom of the form like a paperweight.
That little cloud turned black and ended up filling the role of the aforementioned force, and it gelled such that it now seems it couldn't have been any other way. There's something ineffable in those switches from arbitrary to surprising to inevitable that I don't want to try to define, but I will say that working with paintings as both streams and estuaries is starting to make more sense as certain subjects become motifs. And this also speaks to the potency of opposition and tension and friction (formal and emotional) as it relates to resolution. But crucially: these relationships are not to be sought, but rather found or stumbled upon or recognized in the aftermath of work. This approach feels important to remember and preserve, because observation still lies at the heart of what I am doing, not invention. Although, with that being said, there is also something to contemplating the modern pattern of widespread dissatisfaction with what is already in front of our eyes.
A lot of time spent with Redon's drawings this week. In his words: “One must respect black. Nothing prostitutes it. It does not please the eye and it awakens no sensuality. It is the agent of the mind far more than the most beautiful color to the palette or prism.” Woman with Outstretched Arm (1868) especially—the wind, the birds, the body, the earth all moving as one cohered instance.