At a certain stage in life, unknowing becomes as helpful as knowing. Through an artistic practice, and not necessarily one that is purely visual or physical, I have come to learn that the very knowing I had intended with my life thus far, through history, fact, and education, has changed. It has become ontological. Being and its meaning is a life-long search. To exist here, now, I wonder what a physically manifested work of art means. Unknowing takes into consideration all things, and physicality, being a one thing, is not the most important facet to my work. I am unclear if art is more for me, or for the later viewer, and I am willing, as long as the viewer is, to let that be decided by another over and over again regardless of context.
My current work is becoming, at least as best as I can describe it, more observational. This in no way hinders the abstraction process, because the abstraction happens as immediately as does the sight of the original object. There are particular shapes, colors, and forms that I have, for reasons unbeknownst to me, taken as a répertoire, adding them to my toolbox merely because they interest me or catch my eye. My visual language is slowly expanding, but a comfortability of this language is what allows me to manifest a much vaster reach of outside content. Connections are as easily discernible as words in a sentence if information is seen in a horizontal fashion, rather than vertically. What I mean by this is that an overview of any thing filters out graspable important particulars down to essences that are much more relatable. A cup is an ocean once an ocean becomes known as an object which holds water. A cup becomes an ocean once its contents are salt water and sea creatures. What starts off as ambiguity soon, with arguably very little thought-time spent, becomes important juxtaposition for further exploration and knowing. Unknowing has opened a can of worms into a different type of knowing: A knowing of more.
Translation is the most important art that I can think of, and though I only speak English of a certain Midwest-American varietal, I seek translation in all forms. The use of outside material, whether that be phrases or snippets of visual information, understood wholly or not, find their way into my process, and this realization has made me more conscious and most willing to let things exist as independent ideas without my subjective modifications and for myself to act merely as a composer of contents. Viewing outside information can truly only be seen through my own lens and my work is often self-referential while maintaining distance to keep my place as an outsider to the materials I am using or speaking with. A translation of imagery to thought and back again is the simplest refinery for me to create art, and this refining will find errors in its translation. These errors are important to my results, and, in an attempt to humble, I allow errors to breathe and to accept that inevitability. There are many things that are out of my control, and if they must be, I let them.
My hand’s evidence is purposefully left out of the visual art I create, maybe out of respect for the object-ness, or maybe out of timidity. In allowing things to speak for themselves, my morality is intact, and any qualms can be seen logically from the outside in. Pride is a naughty word to me and it is something that I try my darnedest to avoid by decree. As a bit of biology, an animal myself, I try to simply exist (an impossibility given consciousness) and only react. Being reactionary warrants a lot of freedom, an ultimate freedom, that I find of utmost importance in art and to which I was drawn to it in the first place. It is with this that I move forward with a confidence of ability to arrange and compose disparate elements in a way that finds harmony to itself and the environment around it. My work is not concerned with naturalism or economics, but with its ability to exist free of bounds, and in a way that is constantly rebelling even itself.