I approach my paintings with a certain struggle, intentionally enforced by the choice of paint or the choice of canvas, which creates a tension within the work. Skin as subject is central in my work due to its haptic qualities as well as visually distinctive state. Like skin, my paintings tend to be on the border between surface and object, ultimately making a distinction between picture and object irrelevant.
The digging, only the digging, is the life force, the creation of the history of the world
In January 2020 I am making myself a dogma for my graduation works. I want to make works on duvet sheets. I cover the five duvet sheets with a thick coat of wall paint which makes the sheet inflexible. Afterwards, I thoroughly crumble the sheets until they become crackled and shattered. I want to successfully make failed canvases.
The failed canvas is now an undeniable, unescapable part of the work. It can no longer simply support and enhance the visual. The paint has to learn how to function with the failed canvas. Throughout the proces of learning this strange relationship, I discover a certain reinforcement of struggle on my own behalf. I want to constantly be in and out of control and I manage that by applying way too much turpentine, way too fat linseed oil, way too small and too cheap brushes. I like it when my material fails and my work wins.
Admittedly, I don’t have much power over their turnouts. Sometimes they tell stories I don’t even know about myself. They become archeological sites for a different timeline. I am just a discover, still trying to shape my mind around what it wants to do - why here and why now?