(click image to view full painting)
Reverse Course
What I Saw
What Remains No. 2
The Light at Curi-Cancha
Indigo Nights
Horizons
What Remains, No. 1
Reverb
Center Point
Stained Glass
Diving Into the Wreck
Fear and Syllables
Sleeplessness
Dreams of Falling Through
Practicing How to Fall
Untitled (Squid Ink)
Bark
Untitled (blue and green)
Categoría Cinco (Maria)
Wild Aster
Map
Blue Fog
Follow the Birds Home
Traverse
Loose Threads
Painted Bunting
Violet Sabrewing Crosses the Border
Catbird Seat
untitled
This side or that side
The Charity of the Hard Moments
Double Sun
Clarity
Calligraphy in Flight
Jar of Smoke
Concussion Diaries No. 72
Delicate Balance
Cat's Eyes and Quitsies
Charlottesville
Shifting Parentheses
Concussion Diaries No. 25
Helen Levitt's Winter
Effloresce
Concussion Diaries No. 78
Australian Yellow Green Polaroid
Memories of Empty Lot Games
Sea Glass
Wind

about

I suffered a serious concussion in the spring of 2017. Alice fell down a rabbit hole; I just fell on the floor. The doctors forbade reading, screens of any sort, and complex thinking (really). I wondered if I might go bonkers – and then I wondered if that was complex thinking. A friend suggested maybe I could paint. It fit with something I had been feeling, so I got an easel, a big pad of drawing paper, and a starter set of acrylic paint tubes. Mindful of the fragility of paper, I asked my partner Shelley to open an Instagram account, call it the Concussion Diaries, and post each painting for me. For my friends following along, it was like a slow motion MRI of my improving brain. I had never painted before and my faculties were pretty compromised. The early pieces were simple strokes of color.

As soon as I had the stamina I moved from the easel to taping 3’ by 5’ pieces of paper to the dining room wall, where I could make big, gestural brush strokes. After I painted off the edge of one painting onto the wall, we started talking about turning a room upstairs into a studio.

Why Night Walk? After the concussion the doctors encouraged regular walking. Since I couldn’t tolerate much sound or light, Shelley and I walked each night. As the symptoms eased, taking photographs with my cell phone regularly interrupted the walks.

I studied Russian language and poetry at Princeton, but I fit in Peter C. Bunnell’s history of photography courses around the edges. Those courses were pure intellectual exhilaration for me. Prof. Bunnell eventually pushed me to take a studio course, for which I bought my first non-instamatic camera - a Yashica MAT, two and a quarter square. With that beloved camera began my attraction to road markings and night photography.

My first photograph of road markings was taken from a parking garage looking over a wall onto the driveway of an estate. I was chased off by a woman in a maid’s uniform. Night photography back then required patience, with a release cord to hold the aperture open for long exposures. After college the cost of analogue photography was prohibitive. Then the Yashica broke down. Twenty-five years later I picked up a cell phone and I could capture what I was seeing in the dark without a tripod or a release cord. Every night, I find myself singing along in my head to Flo Morrissey’s song, “Look at what the light did now.”

 

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Center Point

June 2018 Acrylic on canvas, 5' x 3' $350