The room has a particular sound and scent I can’t yet place. But it has absorbed everything. All the big ones –  memory, metaphor, nostalgia, empathy – into a dusky yellow.

I see it now as a slipping in. Slipping into a melody or a somebody, into a joke or a night or a flower. When color slips in, I see it laying on the surface of a thread, pooling in the center, digging deep there, seeping through, while the edges remain barely touched, young.

A color may appear differently on a plate than on a bowl. Orange may look darker on a dress than on a sheet. Become a lighter hue or another name altogether.

Combinations of forms – light hitting a wet street, deciduous trees littering hills, triangular sails pointing away from jetties – even these abstractions hold tight. But not until you call it by its name, leave and return, does home do this.


Artist biography









Prison, 2018, glazed ceramic, 17 1/4 x 11 1/2 inches



Marina, Marina, 2018, oil on linen, 26 1/8 x 22 1/4 inches


Dawny Bridge, 2018, glazed ceramic, 16 1/4 x 12 1/4 inches



Stony Rubbish, 2018, glazed ceramic, 15 7/8 x 10 3/4 inches



Sirens, 2018, oil on linen, 19 x 23 1/8 inches


Hearts are Flowers, 2018, oil on linen, 16 1/8 x 12 1/8 inches


Daffodils, 2018, oil on linen, 16 1/8 x 12 1/8 inches


Untitled Variety, 2018, oil on linen, 12 1/8 x 16 1/8 inches