In Memoriam (2023)

A memory is a sequestered image, hidden deep within my subconscious unless called upon.  Even so, the picture is hazy, lackluster, and just out of reach. Is it reality or a dream? There are no sounds in this dream. There are no smells, voices, or faces either. Emily Dickinson once wrote that remembrance has a rear and a front, yet this is not the case for me. The dream is composed of incomprehensible forms, bleeding into and out of one another. The dream is unreliable and ever changing, rearing a child-like falsehood. And yet, the dream is not a dream at all. It is in fact reality, or a reality in retrospect.

Dissociation, due to childhood trauma, is an involuntary coping mechanism that I have struggled with my entire life. As a result, I have few detailed memories I can recall from my childhood. This body of work explores “fond” memories from my childhood. Through this series, I am discerning the true nature of these childhood memories through a new-found adult perspective.

(From left to right)

  1. The Cheeto War (2023). 42 in. x 30 in., oil on canvas.

  2. Chemtrails and Never-ending Hallways (2023). 60 in. x 27 in., oil on canvas.

  3. Too Much Eggnog (2023). 60 in. x 51 in., oil on canvas.

  4. A Portrait of My Parents (2023). 42 in. x 42 in., oil on canvas.

  5. The Color Teal Makes Me Nauseous (2023). Dimensions variable. Cut shirts, flora-foam, concrete, ink, gouache, and acrylic.

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2023-24