In my recent work, I am inspired by medieval paintings as pathways to abstraction and world building. I’m especially drawn to late medieval Italian frescoes, to their imperfections and the connection to humanity they give me.  I find the process of viewing these paintings exciting. Right away there are unambiguous details that spring to life—a pointing finger, the shoulder joint of some armor—while the spatial context remains mysterious. As I spend time with the work, that context quickly becomes understandable and meaningful, but it’s that first moment of confusion, of simultaneous clarity and mystery that I most love.
Viewing these paintings, it seems to me that time collapses. I connect to the human subject matter of the scene depicted, to the artist whose artistic choices are so alive, and to my contemporary, post-abstraction viewing context. I see worlds coming together — the holy and the earthly, the medieval and the present day, the abstract and the descriptive. The imperfection of these works, after hundreds of years of wear and tear, opens them up. As a 21st century viewer, I find them thrilling experiences of abstraction. My work attempts to understand and build upon that perceptual moment.

In this ongoing project, begun while deprived of physical travel early in the pandemic, I am following the route Charles Darwin took with the Beagle (1832-36) using Google Street View, and making tiny, postcard-sized paintings of what I discover. Like Darwin, I am dedicated to observation and guided by curiosity. Darwin’s observations led, years later, to the theories of natural selection and evolution he set forth in On the Origin of Species; already my observations are leading me to ideas about the human species.

In my recent work, I am inspired by medieval paintings as pathways to abstraction and world building. I’m especially drawn to late medieval Italian frescoes, to their imperfections and the connection to humanity they give me.  I find the process of viewing these paintings exciting. Right away there are unambiguous details that spring to life—a pointing finger, the shoulder joint of some armor—while the spatial context remains mysterious. As I spend time with the work, that context quickly becomes understandable and meaningful, but it’s that first moment of confusion, of simultaneous clarity and mystery that I most love.
Viewing these paintings, it seems to me that time collapses. I connect to the human subject matter of the scene depicted, to the artist whose artistic choices are so alive, and to my contemporary, post-abstraction viewing context. I see worlds coming together — the holy and the earthly, the medieval and the present day, the abstract and the descriptive. The imperfection of these works, after hundreds of years of wear and tear, opens them up. As a 21st century viewer, I find them thrilling experiences of abstraction. My new work attempts to understand and build upon that perceptual moment.

In my recent work, I am inspired by medieval paintings as pathways to abstraction and world building. I’m especially drawn to late medieval Italian frescoes, to their imperfections and the connection to humanity they give me.  I find the process of viewing these paintings exciting. Right away there are unambiguous details that spring to life—a pointing finger, the shoulder joint of some armor—while the spatial context remains mysterious. As I spend time with the work, that context quickly becomes understandable and meaningful, but it’s that first moment of confusion, of simultaneous clarity and mystery that I most love.
Viewing these paintings, it seems to me that time collapses. I connect to the human subject matter of the scene depicted, to the artist whose artistic choices are so alive, and to my contemporary, post-abstraction viewing context. I see worlds coming together — the holy and the earthly, the medieval and the present day, the abstract and the descriptive. The imperfection of these works, after hundreds of years of wear and tear, opens them up. As a 21st century viewer, I find them thrilling experiences of abstraction. My new work attempts to understand and build upon that perceptual moment.

Egg tempera paintings mostly inspired by Giotto.

Paintings of the building I work in.

The paintings in this series depict the edges of human habitation— outposts in the wilderness of the arctic and overlooked margins of densely populated areas nearer home. The familiar landscapes examine both the practical and unplanned ways we transform our visual environment, while the arctic scenes offer evidence of our attempts to measure, tame, live in, understand, and improve our world, set against the unknowable vastness of nature itself.

The paintings in this series depict the edges of human habitation— outposts in the wilderness of the arctic and overlooked margins of densely populated areas nearer home. The familiar landscapes examine both the practical and unplanned ways we transform our visual environment, while the arctic scenes offer evidence of our attempts to measure, tame, live in, understand, and improve our world, set against the unknowable vastness of nature itself.

These paintings depict arctic landscapes at the edge of human habitation. They offer evidence of man's attempts to measure, tame, live in, and understand his world, within the unknowable vastness of nature itself. Are we looking at the ending of something, or the beginning of something else?