I paint less the object than the condition holding it — water, a vessel, a tank, the structure something must... Read More
I paint less the object than the condition holding it — water, a vessel, a tank, the structure something must live inside.
My work borrows the form of still life, but not its usual aim: not beauty, but the structures a life cannot help but occupy, and the state maintained inside them. Water and transparent enclosures recur throughout — granting freedom while working as an invisible limit. What lives inside doesn't move toward a story. It holds still, sustained by its conditions, governed by structures it never chose, even as those structures keep it safe.
The seal here is closer to a state than a character — at ease in water, faintly uneasy outside it. I keep its expression minimal on purpose. But even while held completely still, something in it keeps watching the dark beyond the glass. Here, that watching multiplies: one seal reads in a chair built for it, another curls into a crib no larger than itself, a third sits before a shelf of books it cannot read. The house holds no one, yet something in it still resembles shelter — each room a shape poured into, the way water takes whatever vessel holds it, adapting rather than yielding.
