Painting only from memory, I use the architecture of barns as a visual formula and guide in an otherwise intuitive process. As the structures are raised they are also torn down, erased, blurred, wiped away. The construct disintegrates, the bottom drops out. It was not only about the beams or the windows or the barn.
It was about the body and interior spaces where the soma holds room; occupies, reaches, peels away.
Rhythmic and airy, chaotic or expansive, breath defines the space. It sends the hearty— essential and forgettable tempo rumbling around skeletal eaves and hallways. An extension of our bodies, breath presses the internal outward into the world, curling into dark corners, filling the rafters, and settling in the sun. Breath is what is left when we leave, and home is where our breath invites us back in.
What house/s t/here?
