28 April 2026
Bench: painted a bench I saw in Dulwich Park. Made of wooden slats riveted to thin, flat, ribbon-like iron rails. When I saw it, from a certain angle it separated from its function and took on the appearance of a rickety bridge, or piano keys, or teeth. That Ruscha pastel and gunpowder drawing Self (1967) came to mind after I painted it—a form of solidified grace. And the rail attached itself to the image's border, which I taped off loosely for no discernible reason, but in hindsight was a decision that gelled nicely with the slight warping of the planks that comprise the bench's sitting surface. Thought about Rita talking about making unforgiving paintings too. An intentional arrangement of an observation, a speculative suggestion for seeing.