When I was little I was regularly reprimanded for sculpting my mashed potatoes instead of eating them. Now I sculpt paint, spreading it thick with a palette knife. Saturated, juicy textures call out to me – the smooth surface from the knife, the layering of sumptuous earth tones, the empty spaces where character shows through.
I’m drawn to surfaces weathered by years of wind, rain, sun, salt, and stories. Forgotten pieces in the grass and sand and salvaged from discard piles get added to the ever-growing “I could paint on this” collection that is slowly taking over my Boston-area apartment.
I am 60% daydreaming of late afternoon sun, 30% calm of the quiet in my studio, and 10% strong coffee.