Our celestial selves are made of light stuff – tiny things that come together to make us visible, make us feel solid, make us feel separate and distinct. Floating through life, it seems clear sailing. As much as we are able to see from our unique vantage points, we cannot see the small things rushing toward us nor observe their incorporation into our selves. Over time, small things accumulate and condense, are rendered visible and given form. An outburst allows part of the self to detach and return to the ground from whence it came. Turbulence keeps us aloft. Dialogue is a goddess of small exchanges.
Much of what traumatizes us becomes intangible. Words evaporate, events no longer present lose their shape, shifting and colliding with new meanings. Memories suspended in the ether condense and precipitate. How can things so light and invisible hurt so much? These pieces are an attempt to come to terms with my vaporous grief – the endless amorphous shifting of things that hurt. I cannot find and keep the shape I once knew. The flux of atmosphere shapes us. What looks like organization and some kind of internal logic is, for the most part, created from the outside. Is it possible for such entities to take action?
The metaphor of cloud is powerful, and accessible, expressing the commonplace and the complex. Multi-dimensional in interpretation, we can approach the cloud as technologic (upload, download, cloud computing); ecologic (hydrological cycle, sustenance); anthropogenic (human causation, changing global ecosystems) among others. The apparent simplicity of “cloud” draws viewers in. Colour, stroke and various media swirl and coalesce, capturing a moment, a state, constancy and change in the endless blue sky.
The clouds of our youth are delightful, benign, and the subjects of fantasy. Who hasn’t lain on their back looking up at the sky, imagining sheep, dragons, or other-worldly creatures? What do you see here?
Of course, our imaginations can get darker and the ful spectrum of clouds include those that can threaten us with their weight (“Anvil Cloud”) or release the ecological horrors that have previously ascended, such as in “Radioactive Cloud” – a radioactive spectre hanging above an urban scene.
You will be able to see “Thunder Cloud” at the Quest Gallery 13th Annual Juried Exhibition Show, August 25 – October 21, 2017. Opening Night and awards will be: August 25, 7-9 p.m. You can find our more about the Gallery and its location HERE.
You can see more of my art work HERE.
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