Famille de Nature Morte
That in which is gold, is held only temporary.
For one’s first breath, is to comply furthermore
with the persistence of memory, time, and space.
A pure form;
a catalyst for change, a motive to pursue.
That in which is sacred, though, is held to be sacrificed.
By knowing, by what is.
An elusive epidemic;
our breeding, our feeding;
our careless dancing
in the shadows of forces greater than our own.
The animals, our leaders,
it was never our nest.
we tossed our temple to unruly hands,
and we tossed our children to the wolves of the world.
on burdens, bills, and blessings.
Fearing our father’s watching,
fearing that they’re weeping,-
to find that time's brought change,
to find his Garden in flames.
And soon we’ll be forced to watch,
those lead woes asunder;
the American dream.
My work derives from my own inability to properly express my feelings and understandings of the world. All of the subjects that I’ve chosen and all of the compositions are based on fragments of my life and mind. Memories, symbols, opinions, observations, a piece of a dream, a piece of furniture from my childhood home; I've created a collage in which I associate with on a personal level, and allow myself to portray my moral and social questionings.
My curiosities here lie in the nature of life's innocence as well as its correlation with decay discomfort, and control. Organic and human life alike can tell each other’s stories if listened to closely. These elements have always been familiar parts of my life and a fond component of my craftsmanship. I've always been attracted to the oddities in life including the props used in my sets.
My only hope to you as my viewer, is that my work may open a door to a world full of questions: about composition, about subject matter, to the messages our world has to hold, and the visions I hold as my own.
Children of the Child
Forgive Me, Father