Old Main Gallery and Framing

“We’re looking for a piece for our home. We’re not exactly sure what we want, but we’ll know it when we see it.” This is a common refrain that I’ve heard over the years. I like this approach toward art, life, and consumption. Remaining faithful to the specificity of one’s desire is a great way to avoid needlessly acquiring things just because everyone else does.

My interest is in that word: “it” … we'll know it when we see it.

That “it” is what I too am trying to represent on my canvases. It's pretty difficult to pull off, but I know that it is possible to paint, because on two occasions I’ve seen something odd happen that maybe gets at what I’m trying to explain. On these two occasions each person broke down into tears when they saw my painting. “Why is this happening to me?” one asked. The other, a middle aged man with tears in his eyes said, “When I look at that … I’m ten again, and I’m driving down this road with my father. We’re about to go duck hunting.”

There’s a theory that asserts that sometimes we stumble across things: moments, songs, movies, landscapes, people, or objects that contain a sort of echo of something infinitely precious that we feel we’ve lost. If found in a painting, people say, "That's it! That's the one." At other times, such an encounter can be quite disturbing. However, I believe these experiences have the potential to open us to deeper understandings of our past. These moments can sometimes help us to forgive a grievance we didn’t even realize we were holding on to. Sometimes a sad song can somehow be a balm on the sting of unrequited love. I’ve experienced unexpected conversations with complete strangers that all the sudden helped me to mourn the loss of a friend years after his death.

Perhaps you’ve had similar experiences, and I guess what I’m trying to say is that one of the main reasons I paint is that I hope that somehow a painting can be good medicine to someone.

GOOD MEDICINE

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