paint

sizes a bit out of proportion, but you understand.

3D

a naive, quilted, skin-like, unstable lantern: represented both in clay and in orange peel.

a collection of useless pamphlets to represent exterior desires despite knowledge and all other things. (to be made into an apron)

compassion: (ownerless dogs resisting aggression by the thought of consequence.)

multiplicity, duplicity and other things that make the word fuzzy: my reaction to contradiction.

(is, in its entirety, with a stop motion animation of a face projected within the wire frame.)

one large cardboard cassette :)

some sketches.

Either preliminary, or out of boredom.

the word [] the work [] the word

These are works from my first semester at MICA (Maryland Institute College of Art). I found at this time that I was more confused than anything else. This juxtaposition of imagery probably describes my mind better than words really could. Looking at it now, I'm still not sure how one image led to another. By no means are these in chronological order or linked by any conscious prevailing theme. I was trying to answer given prompts one at a time, all with different styles (unintentionally though). I had no defining style and no set beliefs. This four month period was solely based on experiment. I have found though, that most of my work has is in search of understanding of humanity, what makes us human (more than animal) and if there is even a distinction to be made. I'm dealing more with this second semester (as well as my more technical assignments) now that I have an equal weight in both the technical and conceptual aspects in my classes. Overall, I feel more passionate and confident. More images to come.

Now that I'm here

I've forgotten why I've come.

People have asked me why I decided to go to art school.

I wish I could respond with something profound that doesn't require lying.

I truth is just that I thought art was just pretty pictures. I didn't really know what made an artist or what made up art. I thought the art in text books didn't have anything to do with me at all; They were just in a book and I was turning the pages! They were there for me to gaze at and vaguely think about while I went on innocently doodling my pretty pictures thinking that I was the best (or there even was a "best") since to anyone else around me, I was.

Now, more than ever, I'm swirling in and out of my self doubt, thinking that even the way water falls off of my body as I rise from a bath is going to help me solve the problem in some way.

I was laying sideways in the bath, lights off. My body made an s-curve and the water just a little bit higher. I'm trying to figure out what I saw. It was dark. (Did I see anything at all?) I saw the tiles on the walls, and they were pink (just the kind of pink I remembered). The shadows were different though. I guess they can never be the same. So there they were: The tiles, the shadows, then the porcelain tub, then the water. On the water I saw everything I saw above it; I saw the reflection. But in the reflection, nothing was the same as the real version. It was the bathroom (but opposite) and from one particular unique perspective (mine, in that moment). I let my fingers raise without thinking and they became a monster rising from the ocean coming towards me. It was attacking me gracefully. It sank into the ocean again and I turned on my back to face the ceiling. I let my feet rise to the hot and cold handles; I let them sink again. I felt the way anything in a cup of water would feel like. The bath wasn't a bath anymore; it was a cup, and I was a toy soldier, bobbing up and down. My face rose and sunk into the water gently enough so I could feel the suction of the water come around my nose. My face didn't feel like a face. All of this just in a tub.

All of this was just me trying to spend time somewhere else hoping to find a eureka moment where there doesn't need to be one. I was waiting for some sign of what to do in my art to feel that love and admiration towards it the way I do towards art of my peers that I see for the first time (and even the second). If only I didn't have to live with what I make and see it everyday and call it my own and defend it. If only I didn't feel the need to answer the question of ,"So, what now?" and first learn to deal with the difficulties that come even without any agitation.

These things might be:

The shadows, in between parts,

shapes (freeform or preset),

tessellation,

start and end, in an out,

weight, chaos, games,

linear vs. cyclical,

love,

layers, proportion,

lust, need, fate.

These things might be:

The only things I need.

the important things

the weight,

the heaviness that I am always thinking about

pushes and pulls my sanity.

maybe that's why i'm always stuck.

it's thinking about opposites that gets me;

i can't choose (what is right/wrong).

aren't i supposed to be able to see right and wrong (as being different)?

how can we all be human?

it makes no sense.

how can humans be another type of animal

when we are all so different?

maybe each horse is different from one another,

each with a goal,

thinking about tomorrow

before thinking about today.

impossible.

there are too many categories

and divisions/multiplicity;

1*1=2,2*2=4,4*4=16...

and it grows and grows

and narrows down,

down down down

until the end

until a face

is faced,

and everything you ever knew about any grouping is made wrong

by a new story

and the purpose is (un)clear

the only thing to do is to keep busy with numbers and calculations and things to fill a space,

some space

any space.

someday the things that fill our space will send us out to fall

(and what we think to be falling is really only these things pulling us,

sending us, where we we are meant to go) because we have no other choice.

not to say that the lack of choice is a dead end,

but rather a blessing.

one cannot do everything alone,

which is why we have destiny,

the pull of the planets,

the lines in our palms,

the push of the air that

brings us to one another,

and the beauty in the

space.

Piombare

=to fall heavily

Maybe we can never fall. We can compare ourselves

to the center of the earth and the distance to the sun

and feel happy with knowing we can only be right here.

We can compare our faults to the faults of others

and consider ourselves just a little bit smarter,

smart enough to stand up straight.

The push and pullof time and idea

will either hold me up or pull stilts away

from all around meand watch as I

[sto piombando].