I spent my formative years in a cluster of low red brick buildings in Northwestern Queens, just a bridge ride away from Midtown Manhattan. This body of work, created from fragmented family photographs of a bygone era, was not intended to be autobiographical. And in fact it is not. It just looks that way. These images are part reality, part fantasy, part dream, part imagination. There is something very personal about them and yet they have a universal quality. Is this somebody else’s childhood, or mine? I don’t remember that moment, or do I? This project caused me to give some serious consideration to memories and how they manifest themselves as we age. And how do we represent our ideas about our memories in a visual, two-dimensional, format?
I think it is safe to say that most people do not have memories that resemble moving images, frame after frame unfolding in realistic clarity. For myself, and I assume for others, memories come and go in flashes and blurs. And as I age my memories change. I’m not always clear about what actually happened and what is my shifting view of what happened. I suspect this is true for most of us. My imagery and compositions in this body of work attempt to communicate those sensations. In addition to the pictorial images that are reality based, there are incongruous and unexpected elements that flow into one another seamlessly. This is accomplished through the drawing that I do to enhance and alter my surfaces. In this way I am creating an illusion and only the viewer can decide what really happened or existed in the past and what didn’t. I’ll never tell. Or maybe I just don’t remember.
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