My work is ultimately about storytelling and narratives focusing on individuals and their personal journeys. When I entered art school it was because I wanted to be a cartoonist. Comics, animation, and illustration fascinate me. The idea of the viewer being on a journey through my art was endlessly exciting. It still is. Everything about this form of art enraptures me. The subtleties that create expression and mood in a still image can be so minute yet crucial. The presentation of a scene and character that becomes a seamless marriage to the dialogue or narrative that draws you into the book or screen causing suspension of disbelief on par with a movie or play is something that takes a lot of intricate work and thought.
I try to incorporate these sensibilities into my paintings. My paintings have one scene to engage the viewer in a story, no more. I try to include enough information to cause the viewer’s imagination to begin creating dialogues, narratives, and histories to fill in the blanks. On a more personal level, it is a release to me to be able to communicate my ideas to a larger audience and exhibiting artwork becomes a way to connect with others and spark speculation and conversation.
When I create my work, I usually wish to engage in a dialogue concerning the difference between surface appearances and deeper truths. Initially, I want most of my work to evoke pleasant sensations, whether it be laughter, sexiness, sweetness, or dazzlement. But I want it to be more than that. As previously stated, I want the viewer to then have to take the story into their own hands and let their imaginations begin to work. I want them to be caught off guard by some off kilter quality or detail. I want a beautiful couch bought at a yard sale for $10 which you later discover to be infested with roaches. There has to be something there that makes you think, something right below the surface.
In the past I have done a lot of exploration into sexual and gender identity and the often painful but more often freeing transitional periods that lead us to those identities. As immersed as I am in the world of children, I am also and more currently exploring ideas of linking childhood truths and adult realities. Predation and loss of innocence are two ideas that feature highly in both spheres. The difference between what you believe as a child and what you think you know as an adult is simply, I feel in most cases, resulted from a widening of point of view and the ability, as it were, to see the man behind the curtain and understand more fully, that no story is comprised solely of two sides. For instance, as a child you know that the troll under the bridge attempting to eat the three billy goats gruff is simply an evil creature. However as an adult, you might note that the troll's wife and children are slowly starving to death and he is simply trying to do what he must do to insure their survival. These ideas are stark contrasts of light/dark, the perceived and reality. Sometimes, under the sunshiney veneer of childhood lurks the most grit and pain.
The influence of cartoon imagery is not solely evident in the content of my work, but also in its aesthetic. Even though I've done a LOT of observational study and figure drawing from life, it seems that a bit of that toon look seems to still creep around the edges. These include a exaggeration of features and expression, a smoothing over of details, and a flatter look. Other visual elements to my work include non-local colour and hyper colour. I strive to find not just the colour on the surface, but all of the colours and patterns that add up to that whole and then give them a place in the forefront of the piece. Historically, I make a lot of connections to Art Nouveau and Fauvism. The excessive use of line and flatness of figures in art nouveau is beautiful. The colours in fauvism are radiant, bright, and convey a sense of what is truly there, the color of light hitting water, or flesh in the shade. But, no matter how much art history I have taken, when I am working I am still seeing how Barbara Gordon's eyes were drawn in the latest issue of "Birds of Prey" or the slant of Emma Frost's hips in "Uncanny X-Men". I see the stretchy, flowing anatomy of Bugs Bunny, and try so hard to analyze what lines Mo Willems uses to make his uber simple Pigeon SO expressive. So, when I'm making art, I am thinking of cartoons. Then I wash my brushes, go home, and watch some.
And I am trying hard to stop feeling bad about that. It's as if enjoying something automatically means I'm not working hard enough. But slowly, I am coming to realize, that if everyone suppressed these compulsions, then there would be no good illustrations to light a kid's pants on fire, no sexy comic book vixens for pubescent boys to salivate over, and no cartoons for nerds like me to constantly analyze and obsess over.
And I think those things are great.
