5 June 2026
Stems (working title): a painting that began today based on a wrought iron grille I saw in Venice covering a second story window with a rectangular pot full of tulips reaching towards the sun on its sill. The rails that comprised the grille were pocked with lumpy (but still pretty delicate) pale orange ornamental flowers along with some clover-looking loops, hollow yellow flower shapes, and four yellow x shapes. From far away, the black iron rails were nearly camouflaged by a black shade that was drawn behind the tulips, which made the ornamental pieces appear to float in space. I love that idea, something old and robust guarding new life while fading away. Thought of Eric Timothy Carlson’s latex on canvas Mandala painting (can't find a date for it), which is a piece I've had saved and often come back to for its ability to conjure a similar sensation. And just after I saw the grille, I encountered two fragments of a lost painting by Bellini (presumed to be a transfiguration painting; the placard read Testa di Cristo e Cartiglio, circa 1500-1502) in the Gallerie dell'Accademia. The “Cartiglio” fragment felt like a complete painting on its own to me, and it must have made its way in—I see its little scab of red paint raised above the flatness of the rest of the piece in the button-like flowers I painted today. Also must have been remembering the central stem, the way it divides yet arises from the landscape (the logic of the work as a whole seems to shift as the eye traces it from top to foreground). Not to mention the little opening in the top left, which I assume was a bit of the Christ figure’s robes but read like a slice of sky to me.