Artist’s statementS
Much of my artwork is about imperfection and transition. Things in life overlap, fragment, and dissolve in a balance of masculinity and femininity. I identify as male, but I feel we all have aspects of each, just as I am equally left-brained and right-brained (and ambidextrous). I allow my masculinity and femininity to reveal themselves through art-making.
Everything in the world is connected. Our planet is our home. It’s the house we all live in. We are all made of the same stuff. The same elements in my body are the same as in rocks and trees and dirt and clay and paint. And people as creatures are not that different from each other.
I come from a diverse family and interracial marriage. While I think it’s important to hold onto your history and cultural traditions, mixing is good; hybrids are a good thing!
I feel there is a higher order to things, not something we can rationalize with language. Our society is so attached to making quick judgments and rational explanations to justify the way things are. A lot of the time I think this functions to hide our fear of the unknown.
In the book Eros and Civilization, Herbert Marcuse argues that modern capitalist society creates new needs through consumer goods, which tie individuals to the system of control. By promoting these needs, society fosters a false consciousness where people are unaware of their repression. The products, which seem beneficial, serve to manipulate individuals into accepting their social conditions without questioning them. This passive acceptance becomes ingrained in everyday life, making the system of control harder to recognize and resist. However, Marcuse uses the concept of the “truth value of imagination” to explore the role that imagination plays in envisioning possibilities for human freedom and happiness beyond the confines of repressive reality. Imagination has a critical and transformative function, as it allows people to picture an existence free from the excessive repression imposed by modern capitalist society.
The world transitions and humans are not perfect. Modern society tries to declare that we know all the answers. We obviously don’t. Art is the perfect vehicle for exploring the psychological unknown.
THE CLAY HYPOTHESIS
In this series, I use the ancient power and lifelike qualities of earthly clay. Clay has a rich history and ancient past, with dozens of traditions throughout the world proclaiming that human life was formed from clay. Even today science continues to consider the possibility that all life originated from clay; the Clay Hypothesis proposes that complex organic molecules first formed on the surface of clay minerals in contact with an aqueous solution. Clay is a mysterious substance, and it leads me to question the lines between the living and the dead, and whether those lines are as distinct as we are told to believe, since my body is comprised of the same atoms and molecules found in stones and rivers and trees and mud and oil and paint and clay. Modern civilization often forgets that everything is connected.
Some of these paintings incorporate branches from the plum trees in my southern California yard. These beautiful trees are some of the first to bloom in spring, and their branches become covered in sweet white blossoms as if snow-flocked, inviting life to the garden as the bees pass from flower to flower. Soon the fruits take hold, and when they ripen, I think they are some of the tastiest fruits in the world. The trees are resilient to climate change and even develop noticeable adaptations to the different microclimates around the garden. I care for them and prune them a few times a year, and staring at the small piles of sticks and wood before me, they call out to me: Use My Magic.
The history of the plum tree goes back thousands of years, originating in Asia and Europe. They are thus used metaphorically and symbolically in many cultures, often representing strength, beauty, and prosperity. Interestingly, when I discovered that Japanese tradition holds that the Plum is celebrated as a protective charm against evil, and the tree is traditionally planted in the northeast of the garden (the direction from which evil is believed to come), I looked at my own yard and realized that years ago I had planted a loquat tree in the northeast corner of my property, unaware of the Japanese tradition; lo and behold, a loquat tree is also known as a Japanese Plum!
Our ancient past spans millennia, and I don’t think our modern way of thinking should hastily reject thousands of years of existence. Carl G. Jung recognized the deficiencies in our understanding of emotionally charged pictorial language. “For in our daily experience, we need to state things as accurately as possible, and we have learned to discard the trimmings of fantasy both in our language and in our thoughts — thus losing a quality that is still characteristic of the primitive mind.”
The spoken word is powerful, it helps run our society, it organizes our thoughts, and it helps us rationalize the world. But Jung also states, “Consciousness naturally resists anything unconscious and unknown . . . and ‘civilized’ man erects psychological barriers to protect himself from the shock of facing something new.” Jung recognizes that “in the primitive’s world things do not have the same sharp boundaries they do in our ‘rational’ societies.” For example, primitive man “endows animals, plants, or stones with powers that we find strange and unacceptable.”
Our existence is not born from logic or the spoken word. I create art to explore the unconscious, trying to make sense of the unknowable and irrational through emotionally charged pictorial language, as it is a form of communication that the spoken word cannot touch. In doing so, I experiment with various materials and abstraction and representational styles so that in the end, I feel the finished piece beaming with life.
Cultures have worshipped inanimate objects since the beginning, believing that they have souls or godlike supernatural powers. Millions of people today still worship various places or things, even pieces of art. Yes, I believe I have a soul. The mystery is where the soul begins and where it ends, if at all. Does a plum tree have a soul?
As an artist, I respect my materials and believe they do hold powers beyond our comprehension. Using materials like plum branches and clay, I create art-beings that radiate where the edges of painting and sculpture coalesce.
ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF SOLITUDE
A reference to the García Márquez novel, but not illustrations of it, nor of its political commentary. While I do reference some of its themes (which are universal, like love, war, solitude, and joy), the title fits because I can blend the uncanny with the banal.
The subjects of these painting may be based on images I’ve seen or things I’ve experienced, or references to history, but they aren’t an illustration of a story or anything concrete.
I choose subjects that I find interesting or ambiguous. And they interest me because in that state of unknowing, I can bend them to represent an experience or a fear or something else that cannot be explained with words but that touch the core of my being. Painting is an independent act, and maybe I will be doing it for 100 years in solitude. Somewhere in the artwork is me working out the biggest mystery of all: the meaning of life.
BIOMES
My Biomes series of work contemplates diversity, hybridity, the Earth and its creatures. For example, some of my artworks depict beings that appear somewhat alien or without gender or race. I use clay to build up surfaces and sculpt these beings on the canvas. It interests me that the creation of life from clay is a theme that appears throughout world religions and mythologies, and I relate to this symbolism in my creative process, molding the clay but allowing it to take on organic forms of its own. Clay is the perfect medium for me to access new content. As the clay self-hardens and dries, it cracks naturally, creating an effect that resembles the Earth, fossilized forms, decay, fragmentation, and imperfect beings. It is a reminder of our own vulnerability in this world.
My Biomes series is largely portraits of humans or of hybrid beings with human qualities. I believe we each carry with us a personal biome of energy, little worlds around our bodies, charged with climates, polar opposites, and metaphorical flora and fauna. This energy radiating around a person can be felt. I explore and express both my masculinity and femininity by feeling the energy and allowing it to become the painting, exploring a dimension that exists, and has always existed, but cannot be defined with words. Sometimes I rely on others to sit for me, sometimes I reference masters like Modigliani or Picasso, and sometimes I completely invent the person through the creative process. Regardless, the truth of emotion matters most.
ABSTRACT INTERMISSION
The intermissions are the gaps or pauses in life, moments that are important because I can release the ego and be conscious of my own being. The process of creation allows me to be fully present in the moment, to be free of judgment and assumptions and to allow freedom in the materials, the paint, to let go. Because nature never fails to ignite artistic inspiration in me, I use various materials to build up a surface in the paintings reminiscent of natural formations, decay, and a landscape of being in the moment, where masculinity and femininity reveal themselves from my own personal biome.
VIDEO ART
In my video art, I create sets, props, and characters using all types of materials and found objects, including canvas, paint, paper, wood, clay, dirt, tape, metal fixtures, wires, hardware, and miniature trees. I attach puppets by fishing line and animate them by photographing each small movement within the set, with each photograph representing one frame. By piecing together the thousands of photographs, the puppets come to life.
Although tedious, stop-motion animation is the perfect art medium for trying to make sense of the inexplicable with its inherently ominous quality. I wouldn’t call myself an “animator” in the traditional sense, since my work is more focused on the visuals, metaphors, and combination of music and emotion rather than a rational storyline and how the characters move. Instead of the fluidity of 3D animation done with computers, I prefer the choppiness of stop-motion animation, where the puppets move in a somewhat broken or disjointed manner, as this adds a layer of complexity, reminding us of our imperfections while also hinting at something unpredictable, which I think is essential in any kind of filmmaking.
BECOMING AN ARTIST
Becoming an artist was never a road I chose one day. Although my parents knew very early on that I loved drawing and had some talent at it, they never encouraged me to become an artist. Their concern was that I would be able to earn a living and remain independent. They came from immigrants who were in wars and were seeking better lives in America, and they were taught that hard work and education could lead to success. The art world was foreign to them; art was a luxury they did not have time for, so I was taught that art could never be a career. Nevertheless, I continued to draw and paint without any thought that it would be my profession. Then when I was in college around the turn of the millennium, I realized that art chose me. Decades later, my work has evolved into a realm that blends sculpture and painting and video. With mainstream access to the ability of artificial intelligence to instantly create images of seemingly infinite possibilities, I think the three-dimensional surface and texture, made by the imperfect human, in artmaking is becoming even more important.
POLYMATHY: EXPANDING IN LIFE APART FROM ART
I am partly (mostly) self taught. I majored in studio art at UCSB, with studio credits from the Art Institute of Chicago, and I subsequently earned a master’s degree in video/film production (focusing on stop-motion animation) from Syracuse University. The funny thing is that the graduate degree implies that my peers and I were masters at the subject upon graduating, yet I know on the day of graduation we were nothing close. A degree does not make a master. Mastery of anything requires time, dedication, curiosity, and a continuous commitment to improvement.
I have learned from the thousands of hours I have spent in the studio. Just as important, I have learned from exposing myself to diverse perspectives over the years and refining my taste by continuing to be curious and learn about life apart from art.
For example, in the early 20th century, United States Supreme Court Justice, Felix Frankfurter, was asked by a young man how to become a great lawyer. He advised the man not to limit his studies to the law, but to embrace the study of all fields, such as history, art, literature, science, other cultures, and the environment.
About fifty years later, art critic Clement Greenberg wrote in his essay Esthetic Judgment: To keep on expanding your esthetic taste asks that you keep on expanding and refining your sense of life in general. To further develop your taste in art, he advises that you keep on learning from life apart from art.
So I follow the wisdom of Greenberg and Justice Frankfurter in pursuing my endless mission to grow, refine, and create more influential and meaningful artwork that transcends cultures and borders and reaches greater audiences. I am inspired that two of the greatest artists of the 20th century, Henri Matisse and Wassily Kandinsky, were also lawyers. And I am inspired by other great polymaths in recent history, like Per Kirkeby.