ARTIST STATEMENT

BODIES OF WATER: A Collection of Fluid Situations

Describing water and bodies immersed and emerging as moments in time.

“The situation is fluid” often means, “We have no idea what’s going on.” In these moments, activity is unfolding just beyond our descriptive abilities—a light, a ripple, a pull or the overwhelming push of a large wave. These experiences, perceived uniquely through our senses, may prompt a gasp, a shudder, or a scream of delight.

For some, a figure floating face down in water may provoke anxiety; for others, it conveys tranquility. Water covers about 71 percent of the Earth’s surface. Floating is a parable for life. Water is where we find balance and the expression of life as a series of buoyant experiences. Archimedes’ Principle states, "Any object, wholly or partially immersed in a fluid, is buoyed up by a force equal to the weight of the fluid displaced by the object." Archimedes understood fixations, and flotation, and his insights remind us not only that water symbolizes equilibrium but also what is necessary to reach a stage of buoyancy.

Our profound relationship with water is rooted in history, permeating many social constructs. We “drown” in debt, sorrow, and worry. Immersing oneself in water opens a “floodgate” –literally- to the largely anonymous figures in my work. They are wrapped over, cut through, floating, plunging, and sometimes fighting against the water’s flow. In some studies, the sheer joy of the experience is evident in the attitude of limbs, whether at rest or riding on a current that contracts and expands with the motion of the body.

This satisfaction of movement and its concurrent sensations as the body flows through this embrace of water can be a form of ecstasy, depending on one’s familiarity with the medium. For me, water is a natural medium for my work, yet I render it in oil. For me, this medium is safe. It is forgiving of my erratic marks, which shift from day to day as I cross over, pull back, and layer colors and lines, reshaping my course again and again. My painted world could also exist as a crochet installation, where points expand and collapse in accordance with their color weighting. I don’t have words for underwater—only colors and shapes.

Where is the sky? Above or below? It doesn’t matter. It is simply a matter of time. My work with color consumes my time in the pursuit of elusive harmony. Hours pass with no clear improvement, only for a dribble to meet a bubble or a ripple. A smudge becomes shape, convex, and it is like getting a GPS signal - suddenly I am guided in my watery map. Suddenly, I, too, am in motion, unfurling sails, navigating the shifting current.