The subtleties of slights and pains.
It’s not the big events that hurt the most, but rather the smallest, questionable shift in tone at the end of a spoken word that can plow most deeply into the heart.
As I read this passage by Steve Martin, it struck me as the definition of my work.
I work on a sculpture with a strong concept in mind; I try to capture the bare essence of a human experiencing the moment she is in at that time. A certain tilt to the head or drop of the shoulder reveals if the subject is at peace or in turmoil. I strive to cover the gamut of human existence in a snippet of space and time.
The work doesn’t scream to get its message across. It is a hand placed lightly on the shoulder, giving a gentle nudge to invite the viewer to see. It is with a calm and settled mind that the viewer can hear the haunting melodies.
These undercurrents of darkness are visible beneath the aesthetically approachable exteriors; the smooth texture giving way to the melted roughness, the dignified posture giving way to a mournful turn; the warm bronze hue giving way to the cold, resistant tension of bronze.
My influences are widespread, but I am deeply inspired by musicians and songwriters. There is always music playing in my studio, and some of those songs have turned into sculptures. Listening to “Sweet Dreams” by Marilyn Manson, or “Grey Street” by Dave Matthews prods me to push the work to another level, coax the darkness out of the light, and expose a private thought betrayed by body language.
It doesn’t have to be pretty, but it has to be true.