I was an architect first for over 20 years, when in 2005, a progressive spine disease left me disabled and unable to continue practicing. I bring to my art, my architectural “baggage”. It informs me; always thinking about structure, composition, color and rhythm. The use of the grid, indispensable in architecture for defining parameters of space, is the skeletal backbone of much of my work. Working within the parameters of the grid might sound constraining, but for me, it is liberating. Within the grid, I weave color through geometric constructs, syncopating color and geometric forms as an expression of the joy of movement; a stand in for my inability to move freely through the world without pain.
Creating geometric constructs offers me a form of invention and each work presents me with a challenge that motivates me both analytically and creatively. Each work is a formal exercise layered on top of a creative one, revealing the duality of my brain. The ultimate goal of this process is a quest to create visually energetic works that impart optical joyfulness to the viewer.
Because of my disability, I work digitally. Painting the large format works I want to create is not a viable option for me, so digital technology is a blessing. My art is inextricably tied to technology; the software to make it, the hardware required of the software to render images, the printer to translate it from computer code to the real world.
Working digitally, I question how the digital modality of creating works of art, being in its infancy relative to the history of art, relates to the history of creative expression. Digital tools are different than analog art making tools and methods. But the creativity of the human mind that uses them is still the same. As my work resides in the realm of virtual computer code, I like to think of the code being the artworks DNA. But embedded in the code is the soul of the human being that created it.
Digital is human.