Goodbar

The Goodbar series tackles the anonymous fictions created online by men looking for love, sex and/or companionship.   The men featured in the series, a nod to the 1977 Judith Rossner’s novel Looking for Mr. Goodbar, as well as my hunt for the perfect mate were all downloaded from profile photos off the dating app Scruff. With the advent of digital apps replacing bars and clubs as a viable options of meeting other men, the nuances of cruising and the art of the flirt seem secondary or non-existent.  These grids of digital men, a never-ending candy store of options (bears, queers, muscle boys, twinks, daddies, jocks, etc.), encourage the user to scroll, engage or ignore; and often reduce the men on the other side of the phone to their perceived avatars.

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Tidal

The Tidal series come from an exploration of a world that holds a mystery to me, the power and beauty of something so fierce and primal.  Waves have the power to both delight and destroy, are both a force of nature and something man has spent his life trying to conquer.  It is my hope that this series of work will engage the viewer to think of one of our last frontiers in a different way.  The work is also meant to reference ukiyo-e, specifically The Great Wave of Kanagawa by Hokusai.

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White Wash

I create reflections that are untouchable, manifestations of my longing
Beauty that does not exist in me, in my past or in my world
They are meant to radiate
Treasures found in a pirate’s chest
Cloudscapes of color meant to seduce, into this act of longing

On the surface, perfection personified
Classic icons of beauty—a twist of muscle, curl of bee-stung lips, all-knowing gaze
But I ask the viewer; can they be perfect if they come from me?

Their eyes reflect my sadness
Color drips down the paper like tears
I surround them with ornamentation, drawn benignly to mask my rage

Nature rises up to claim its stake, overlapping and enveloping its prey,
Adding their own superior beauty
Birds, flowers and menacing angels delight in their supremacy

And I am left with the question
Though we all long for perfection, can it actually exist?
This is the tension that resides in me
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