Statement–2011, Sculpture is Always Real, first published in Po10tial Magazine, November 2011

Michael Boles, To the Point, 2011. Aluminum, malachite,

and urethane. 40" x 72" x 1." Private collection.

We choose how precisely or vaguely we define reality. All artists explore the notion of reality. Artists like myself, working with abstract imagery, are no exception.

It may be startling to discover that the terms real and realism do not mean the same things, and in fact, have quite different implications. Realism generally refers to the art historical definition, meaning to artistically render an accurate representation or copy of a preexisting object in space. Either painting or sculpture can imitate the natural world and create a recognizable likeness of a thing (realism); however, only sculpture can be real. Moreover, sculpture is always real. The term real defines a three-dimensional object in space, not a representation of it–which would be an illusion and not reality.

Sculpture extends beyond realism, moving from "a depiction of a thing as it is" to being what it actually is, i.e., "a sculpture." It is never an illusion, but always a real object existing in space. Likewise, I reject the term "abstract sculpture," as abstract denotes an idea separate from reality. My works make use of abstract imagery, signs, and symbols, but that does not negate their existence in real space. My sense is that the imagery is a part of a complete, real object. While the imagery may refer to external ideas through iconography, the unified work is self-referential. The whole sculpture and its imagery exist before the viewer in the real world. I do not desire my sculptures to be anything else.

I have defined an object existing in three dimensions as being real; therefore, sculpture is real, but painting is not. Only a painting's frame exists in reality; what is depicted, the illusion, is not real. Minimalist sculptor Donald Judd explored this idea in his 1965 essay "Specific Objects" (Donald Judd. "Specific Objects." In Art in Theory 1900-2000: An Anthology of Changing Ideas, edited by Charles Harrison and Paul Wood, 824-828. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2003). Judd identifies the plane of a painting as a form in itself. The best thing painting can do is respond to its form, such as Frank Stella's stripe paintings. Judd recognizes the problem between a painting's surface illusions and its true external form (traditionally the rectangle). Judd writes, "Anything on a surface has space behind it." That means one has to understand even abstract painting as an illusion and in no way reality. For Judd, sculpture was the only option in art: "Three dimensions are real space. That gets rid of the problem of illusionism and of literal space, space in and around marks and colors–which is riddance of one of the salient and most objectionable relics of European art."

Our associations with paint and metal are not the same. Paint implies surface and illusion. Metal, while also possessing a surface, implies much more because it shares the viewer's space. It does not depict reality (an illusion), but it is a real object. Differentiating sculpture and painting lies in one's ability to identify the characteristics of the art objects through the concepts of reality and illusion.

Relief sculpture is not new; it has existed in various materials for centuries. My reliefs are composed with artistic techniques from across time, but their purpose applies to the here and now and who I am as an artist in the twenty-first century. My reliefs reject the traditionally accepted notions of reality. They hold a space similar to a painting. They are displayed on a wall, but there is no illusion. They maintain linearity while pressing into the three-dimensional world. They are fundamentally what they are, existing within the viewer's space. They utilize both two- and three-dimensional elements, but are understood as real objects just like freestanding sculpture. Viewers may find the combination of linear and sculptural elements disconcerting, alluring, or both. Combining aspects of two and three dimensions may generate a change of perception by forcing us to reevaluate what we consider to be real. The relief sculptures I make directly engage with multiple dimensions and the discourse of reality.

Statement–April 26, 2011, On the Ordering of Art, first published in Po10tial Magazine, November 2011

Michael Boles, Unnatural Selection, 2011. Aluminum, copper, chrisacola,
sodalite, and acrylic. 31" x 56" x 1." Available for purchase–please contact the artist.

The "ordering" of art has occurred over millennia. It is a reflection of our society's values and structure. Society without structure is chaos. One cannot truly make works of art that express chaos, as doing so would suggest prior knowledge and negate from the outset the intent.

Ordering by no means refers to following some pre-determined canon or style, which in the early-twenty-first century obviously has ceased to exist. Ordering in this context refers to considerations that transcend the object and refer to the time and place wherein the object is placed, as well as the material information that is present. Stunning a viewer is so easy within contemporary trends that making objects that don't so much stun as mesmerize becomes a challenge. The underlying legacy of art has as its roots endless qualities that do just that.

Most people want to look at works of art of all types. All of us are visual creatures. Most people by now understand that works of contemporary art often pose more questions than they answer. Times will arrive when viewers of art will come to trust their own innate visual judgment and instincts once again, rather than relying on the quasi-intellectual judgment of those who seemingly could care less about genuine visual experience.

Statement–March 2011, Wall Reliefs Without the Element of Illusion

Michael Boles, Oneness of Two, 1972. Aluminum, bronze, and acrylic paint.
Available for purchase–please contact the artist.

My current sculptural work is the result of an ongoing exploration that began in 1970 with a series of shaped canvasses and constructions utilizing the wall as support. My background in printmaking and sculpture coalesced into a language that combined the two approaches, and resulted in objects that in essence were a combination of both; however, when working two dimensionally I almost immediately felt the limitations posed by the rectangle. At the time Frank Stella and others were experimenting with shaped canvas, and a little later Donald Judd with the relationship between painting and sculpture, but I felt more information could be related by maintaining and utilizing shape extensively rather than accepting the more Minimalist approach. I realized that my surfaces were not attempts at suggesting illusion, as they were free of illusion and were real within their own sculptural right. In addition, they could exist outside of the limitations of the traditional rectangle. Thus, I feel that my works purvey a real, tangible, and more engaging and evocative abstract imagery that falls somewhere between painting and sculpture.

Statement–March 29, 2011, On Art Today

Michael Boles, The Generation of X, 2011. Aluminum and copper.
27" x 54" x 1." Available for purchase–please contact the artist.

I find attempts at the replication of reality on a flat surface to be as difficult as it has ever been for those who attempt to do so. Whether it is representational painting or photography, it still fails to transcend into reality. Transmission of information is and always has been a significant and important facet of what artists do; currently art manifests to a large extent in the form of imagery that suggests immediate conditions with regard to consumer-based realities and excesses. This legacy is not hard to understand and follows a distinct line from Duchamp through the blatant and "in your face" work of Warhol.

Social reflections such as these have become increasingly pessimistic and unflattering, which is probably as it should be. This, however, is not what defines art; it is merely a facet of the general pessimism of many artists being reflected in some descriptive manner, but does not accurately define art in the broader sense.

Even some of the original purveyors of pessimistic approaches, Ad Reinhardt, Robert Morris, and many others, believed that an awareness of the history of art was important to be able to define the here-and-now. It is as if they sensed, as I do, that the historical "stream" of art is culminating into a large pool with little or no discernible direction. Frank Stella even suggested this when asked at his Metropolitan Art Museum Exhibition of 2007, if he felt that modernism had "run out of gas." His reply was that the notion was "baloney," and that the things that were strong would carry.

Some have tried to quantify and classify the current trends in art; however, art does not seem to want to follow any recognizable path at the moment. Traditional methods of understanding imagery or lack of it cannot be easily applied, therefore the merit of works must be determined by some other means. Much of this merit comes from a consumer based origin and mindset, and mirrors the culture precisely. This enormous "quilt" of directions can only be seen through the eyes of one who evaluates it sometime in the future, and the truly meaningful designs upon this quilt will become blatantly obvious.

Statement–August 17, 2010, on "Stinger" and "Cerebral"

Michael Boles, Stinger, 2009. Aluminum, copper, bronze,
malachite, and hematite. 22" x 59" x 1." Private collection.

Stinger and Cerebral are abstract compositions that investigate the fluidity of sculptural material and the interpretation of drawn line in metal. I intended to retain the original linearity and visceral quality of my two-dimensional arrangements in the three-dimensional realm. I wanted this to be an automatic process in the sense that the linear qualities seemed naturally and effortlessly preserved from drawing to sculpture. Working with these materials relates to art of the past in terms of the devices and basic processes... but with a purpose that applies to the here and now and of who I am as an artist in the twenty-first century.

The shapes used in Stinger and Cerebral are uniquely combined by my own sense of art. These works are objects in and of themselves. They allude to nothing but themselves and the imagery that makes up my visual world. They are carriers of information; not that they convey some object, but that they communicate my essence of reality. These works as well as my others draw on obvious cultural signs, themes, and symbols, while reinventing the iconography of each. In each sculpture, I attempt to define my sense of the abstract through the subconscious marriage of deliberate, yet elusive, cultural symbols. I also strive to manifest order, or even disorder, in an extremely intentional manner.

Michael Boles, Cerebral, 2009. Aluminum, copper,
and hematite. 35" x 77" x 1." Private collection.

Statement–April 26, 2010, on "The Demise of Ballisticism"

Michael Boles, The Demise of Ballisticism, 2010. Aluminum, plywood, acrylic, malachite, copper,
bronze, and found objects. 46" x 60" x 1." Available for purchase–please contact the artist.

Our throw-away society is not limited only to wrappers from those things which we eat, read, or wear, but also includes our celebrities, politicians, and in large part even our art. The "master works" of the mid-nineteenth through the twentieth centuries are no more than selected examples of the tons of artistic refuse that did not make it to notable status.

The title of this work, "The Demise of Ballisticism," is quite tongue-in-cheek in this regard. Ballisticism refers to a fictitious art movement that became a part of the trash heap before it even began. What remains is a glimpse of the art, or the dart, or the heart, augering in, wings aflame, dragging with it the endless texture and detritus of our consumer driven lives.

The "false beard," symbol of authority and immortality in Ancient Egypt, will play no role in this outcome…

Statement–November 2012, On Being an Image-Maker Today, developed from essays dated 2006 & 2009

Michael Boles, Heart in a Spin, 2007. Pencil on vellum.
Available for purchase–please contact the artist.

I am an image-maker. I would not like to think that it is no longer possible for art to be based on just that. Conceptual trends have resulted in invisible art, and intellectualization often falls short of describing pure aesthetic. Just as I cannot describe how chocolate tastes, I cannot describe how my work makes me feel. My process of working is visceral and my art reflects clear aesthetic choices.

I recall being told in graduate school not to attempt to verbally justify my work. This was the "camp" of the late 60's and early 70's. At the time, I felt animosity toward my mentors (not instructors since they didn't instruct); however, I realize now that they were trapped within their own paradigm, and they were reluctant to teach because what was occurring in the art world was nearly overwhelming to them. While being forbidden to discuss my art in any depth made no sense to me then, and it doesn't to this day, it may have prevented me from forming specific intellectual bases for my work. In retrospect it may have been a blessing in disguise as I was freed to do pretty much whatever I pleased artistically. I wasn't given a specific direction and, perhaps in the process, I discovered what was real and beautiful to me, a path I might not have traveled if my graduate professors had chosen a "style" of art for me.

The imagery I use in my work can be both specific and open ended. I often use familiar cultural signs and symbols that change with their new context and allow iconography to develop for each viewer. This gives my designs a playful quality, as they change in each context. The context of the shapes also reflects my belief system and is manifested both randomly and deliberately. Generally, the imagery is most successful when it comes from a fluid and intuitive randomness. But the symbolism is not purely random–it is specific to me and who I am.

I embrace and return to shapes that are unique to me, ones that fall within my paradigm of art. I often think about the endless array of imagery that exists beyond my paradigm and throughout the history of art. I am both limited by imagery choices and structured by my images. I don't see my lack of knowledge about facets of art as an abyss into which I could fall; rather, I see it as a never-ending opportunity.

I embrace the legacy of images prior to the twentieth century that are well executed within the realm of pure abstraction. Their information lies in the break with tradition and the embracing of modern ideas regardless of the reason. Early religious imagery arose out of necessity for everyone involved. This imagery is the open door. The religion of art of the twentieth century suggests that you believe if you are drawn to the work.

Today, intellectualization has shoved art into a chasm with sides coated with all those things no one has ever wanted to consider as media for making art. I feel no necessity to go there. My imagery reflects the world that I love and hate, the world that I embrace and reject, with little or no deference to either. I am a product of my time. I am a piece of the here and now. I could be accused of stoking the twentieth-century flame of pure abstraction while working with a degree of "Old World" craftsmanship; however, I do not see these as shortcomings. The work I create makes me feel good. I make my sculptures because I am driven to do so by a force stronger than myself.

Statement–November 2012, On Design and Composition, developed from essays dated 2006, 2007, & 2009

Michael Boles, It's How I Feel, 2007. Aluminum, bronze, onyx, marble, nacre, and acrylic.
18" x 25" x 1." Available for purchase–please contact the artist.

A primary element of my work is the emphasis on design. Every detail of my pieces is considered in relation to the larger composition. Whether the details are ordered in or in a state of disorder, it is intentional. That said, there is also an element of spontaneity in my designs. If something naturally reveals itself to me, I evaluate whether it belongs in the composition. Sometimes it does. So my works are carefully considered, and they are built by my own design and by intuitive suggestions. My sculptures arise by combining my learned and instinctive sense of design, and they result from both deliberate and subconscious efforts.

For example, the sculpture called It's How I Feel developed from conscious and subconscious designs. It's How I Feel is the first piece that came from how I feel about the art-making process, and it really emphasized a spontaneous type of design. On the other hand, I was aware that the grid came from Southern Crossing, and the composition just seemed like it wanted to be a valentine.

With It's How I Feel, I realized that basic composition cares nothing about materials. This enlightened me to the idea that the substance of a work of art develops from a combination of allowing ideas to happen and the astute mind forcing the issue. To a certain degree the artist must manipulate the materials to get the desired result; however, considering the end materials when designing a composition can be a limitation.

Before I begin to make a piece of art, I must arrive at a successful composition–not an easy task. We all can make marks, but it is the ability to recognize the merit of marks with aesthetic worth that separates artists from everyone else. My compositions are unique to me and come from all that has touched me. Just as a photographer often shoots hundreds of exposures to acquire one meaningful image, I too make hundreds of drawings to find one that has the visual sense that I am looking for.

When making my sculptures, I see my compositional drawings translated into more permanent materials. In reality, my relief sculptures are not about aluminum or stone or even line. They are not verifications, glorifications, aspirations, affiliations, or validations. They are embarkations.

Statement–November 2012, Art Affirms Our Existence, developed from essays dated 2006 & 2009

Michael Boles, Harlequin, 2009. Aluminum, copper,
onyx, and malachite. 48" x 80" x 1." Private collection.

We make art to affirm our own existence and finiteness. Yet, when we experience loss in life, we are catapulted into a renewed sense of what is truly finite in this world. With loss, the boundaries of life are brought to the foreground, and we are forced to reflect on our lives and on our work. Sometimes I feel the more art I make the less I understand it.

For me, making art is not about selling work, but it is about diving into the philosophies of art and life in such a way that questions everything I thought I knew. To continue down my path of image-making requires fortitude that I am not always sure I possess. I love what I do, but it torments me.

Making abstract art can drive one crazy. It is a hard place to go, constantly exploring with nothing to support yourself but pencil, paper, and desire. I know now that certain symbols, such as hearts, flags, and human figures, are important in my work as they keep me out of the abyss in some way. They provide me with the boundaries that are not always obvious in life.

Traditionally, art would be an extension of ourselves into the future, but contemporary directions attempt to deny that as being significant. In the past, it was physical artwork that created one's legacy. Art defined who you were and shaped your history. Unlike many of the sensationalist artists of today, who live only for the money they can make in the present moment, I still believe it is a function of art to affirm our existence and to respond to the edges of life.

Statement–August 2009, on "Priscilla," first published in the catalogue "Michael Boles: The 2007-2009 Anna Lamar Switzer Endowed Teaching Chair"

Michael Boles, Priscilla, 2008. Aluminum, pigmented silicone, bronze, lexan, and acrylic.
39" x 89" x 1." Available for purchase–please contact the artist.

Priscilla. She's got to be my favorite. She was my first, that is, in this digital series. She is, however, somewhat of a hybrid, as there is a considerable amount of hand-cut metal in her. At the time my digital learning curve resembled something akin to how my EKG would look during a wild pig attack. Nonetheless, she works well for me, and holds the inaugural water jet sculpture title.

How often do we have a huge pimple come up on our nose or get hit in the eye with a rock doing yard work prior to a formal event? After much deliberation and attempts at augmenting her name with things such as, "Ruby," "Bump," and even "Aneurism," I decided that Priscilla alone was good enough. One mustn't dwell on her momentary shortcomings.

As she was being made I felt as though I was preparing her for some grand ball or event. When I was finishing her surface I thought back about some "impossible to name" movie I saw in which Janet Leigh (I think) was having some kind of stuff smeared on her face before a grand ball. It must have been cold cream or something, but I remember at the time wondering if there was anything in the known world that you could smear on Janet Leigh to make her look better. Funny how the mind works.

And then there is her tiara. I lost a lot of sleep puzzling over her tiara. I could not decide what to do with it, whether to polish it to a mirror finish or patina it dark or a myriad of other options in between. It once fell, hit the concrete floor, and bent one of the tines, which prompted me to look up tiaras online. Another morning was wasted when I got sidetracked looking up Jerry Falwell and nearly imported a virus, the only time that has ever happened to my Mac. Spiros [Zachos] bailed me out and told me to not go back to that site. I accepted his wisdom, returned to task, and found out that Queen Elizabeth II ostensibly had the largest collection of priceless tiaras in the world (go figure), many from Queen Alexandra who didn't need them anymore. I also found out that Wonder Woman used her tiara as a weapon. The irony was almost overwhelming. I decided that Priscilla's tiara should look worn, used, and used again, but not necessarily as a means of dispatching a foe. It then struck me that the finish couldn't be that important since one can't tell from a distance a priceless tiara from one purchased from Toys-R-Us without cheaters on.

Michael Boles, detail of Priscilla, 2008. Aluminum, pigmented silicone, bronze, lexan, and acrylic.
39" x 89" x 1." Available for purchase–please contact the artist.

Statement–August 4, 2009, first published in the catalogue "Michael Boles: The 2007-2009 Anna Lamar Switzer Endowed Teaching Chair"

Michael Boles, The Venus of Newgrange, 2009. Aluminum, copper, and chrisacola.
48" x 84" x 1." Available for purchase–please contact the artist.

There is little or no difference between the objects our ancient ancestors required for survival and the objects that they coveted. This is the same reality for us in the here and now. The value of useful and functional items in relation to those which are purely for visual or visceral gratification has evolved, and this mirrors the whole of history and the flux of human condition. The thing that is the most interesting is why nonfunctional items such as works of art have become more expensive and sought after rather than those that are useful and functional.

One cannot explain away the phenomena of the monetary value of paintings by artists such as Van Gogh or Vermeer. The craft of their work is only a small part of why their work demands the respect that it does. Scarcity and notoriety are understandable, but the way in which the general public canonizes artisans must amount to more than just those basic tenets.

Statement–August 3, 2009, On Color

Michael Boles, detail of Armor Piercing, 2009. Aluminum,
urethane, jasper, and acrylic. 46" x 80" x 1." Private collection.

I have never thought of myself as a colorist. I know color, but I prefer to use it directly, aggressively, and as punctuation. Almost all of the works that I have done with color deal with physical properties, rather than the emotional effects that color can generate. The exception to this is Armor Piercing, in which I attempt to create a heightened sense of aggression with the color red.

When one looks at abstract painting, one has to deal with some form of transformation of an illusion into an understandable reality. The Abstract Expressionists were among the first to attempt to deny this transformation by insisting that what they were producing was only paint on a surface and nothing more. Most of Western society has almost fully embraced this concept, whether it is agreed with or not.

The relationship between color and abstract painting is obvious, however it remains two dimensional and illusional. The tantalizing thing about relief sculpture is that the illusion is gone; they are fundamentally what they are. They exist within our own reality and cannot be interpreted within the realm of illusion. This dichotomy created by utilizing "real" materials on a surface, which is usually reserved for painting, can be disconcerting and appealing at the same time. An additional element exists in conjunction with the surface. In the case of my reliefs, it is aluminum, stone, bronze, and other materials that make the composition. One's interpretation and/or appreciation of the work must come from some different place–generally from somewhere at least once removed from the aesthetic of painting.

Statement–August 3, 2009, On the Heart Shape, first published in the catalogue "Michael Boles: The 2007-2009 Anna Lamar Switzer Endowed Teaching Chair"

Michael Boles, Armor Piercing, 2009. Aluminum, urethane, jasper, and acrylic.
46" x 80" x 1." Private collection.

The heart shape is a recurring theme in my work. I like the universality of the symbol; it lends itself to endless meanings when used in context with other shapes. We each have our own unique feeling about the shape, which makes it an ideal carrier of information. I don't use the symbol to express anything in particular such as love or affection; instead I use its universal appeal as a point of departure for compositions that redefine the meaning of the symbol itself.

Armor Piercing is a good example of how the heart shape has been co-opted as a vehicle of expression. Most consider the heart shape to be quite feminine for obvious and historical reasons. Armor Piercing, on the other hand, is quite masculine and phallic, and it suggests aggression, confrontation, and possibly violence. The contrast of these two ideas comes together to redefine each.

Statement–August 3, 2009, on "Ten Stars," first published in the catalogue "Michael Boles: The 2007-2009 Anna Lamar Switzer Endowed Teaching Chair"

Michael Boles, Ten Stars, 2009. Aluminum, bronze, pigmented silicone, malachite, and acrylic.
38" x 72" x 1." Available for purchase–please contact the artist.

Ten Stars is not the same as "Tin Stars," an obvious anachronistic slur at designated keepers of the peace; however, the suggestion functions very well as a part of this composition. Strangely enough, the purpose of law enforcement and artists are similar; both attempt to make this world a better place in which to live by actions that are not always agreed upon by the general public. Both are often immeasurably sensitive and often insanely brutal. For me, Ten Stars is more about the realization that any number of seemingly unrelated shapes or symbols such as an American flag can come together to produce a viable and evocative composition.

There is much more to the American flag than meets the eye.

This piece contains a symmetry of sorts; however the presence of a variety of elements leaves a palpable degree of uncertainty regarding its meaning. Contained within are suggestions of the American national identity, Ionic Greek capitals, prehistoric fossil formations, mysterious organic growth, as well as what I like to call, "five o-clock shadow." All of these symbolic references are purely intuitive, but by their context tend to redefine themselves.

We live in a world of signs, symbols, and directions, so much that we no longer need to read the "fine print" to understand what they all mean. Context has always been a primary venue for artists of the twentieth century, and I feel that the interpretation of this work as well as most all of my other recent works deals directly with how one understands or relates to this context.

Statement–October 2008, on Generating Art, first published in Po10tial Magazine

Michael Boles, Luff, 2007. Pencil on vellum. 9" x 12."
Available for purchase–please contact the artist.

As early as age 7, I became enthralled at how substance could come from making marks on paper without attempts at duplicating reality. I recall staring for extended lengths of time at what some would categorize as scribbling, primarily because I was allowed and encouraged to do so. The fact that I remember this event may or may not relate to what I now develop into art, but the generation of each is the same.

Statement–October 1, 2008, We Naturally Desire Harmony, first published in Po10tial Magazine, November 2011

Michael Boles, My Second Flip, 2007. Aluminum, onyx, hematite, and bronze.
36" x 31" x 1." Private collection.

We naturally desire harmony in our visual experiences. When it happens in space it can be confrontational; on a plane it maintains a tangible tactile quality and presence, and somehow it occurs as an individual validation resulting from a cumulative acceptance. My works are meant to be experienced viscerally, as that is how they originated.

Statement–May 8, 2007, on Symbols, first published in Po10tial Magazine, November 2011

Michael Boles, My Pretty Beaten Heart, 2007. Aluminum, bronze, onyx, and lead.
35" x 23" x 1." Private collection in Amsterdam.

The symbols, shapes, signs, signals, and phrases that guide us in our pursuits of everyday peace and tranquility permeate our culture. Challenging these things is a constant for artists in some way. It's nothing new to bash established norms. It is the legacy of twentieth- and twenty-first-century art.

I feel shapes, signs, and symbols are the touchstones of culture and are those things that provide a constant in a world that is on a bullet train to the unknown. They are simple, identifiable realities. They are the dirt under our feet. They transcend language, and they are only a problem when their context is disrupted.

Statement–July 4, 2006, on "Southern Crossing"

Michael Boles, Southern Crossing, 2006. Aluminum, bronze, slate, burled maple, malachite, and gold leaf.

44" x 60" x 3." In the collection of the University of West Florida.

Southern Crossing is like a dream of other places with layers and layers of things both realized and yet to be discovered. I imagine viewing through a window idyllic places with lots of water and stars. To see these places, we must peer into this other reality and push beyond the screens that mask a clear view into the background. Imagery in the foreground is still an illusion, but not by much. Southern Crossing is one of the few of my compositions that remains within a rectangular format.

Statement–June 20, 2006, on Visual Art Today, first published in Po10tial Magazine, November 2011

Michael Boles, Aborealis, 2005. Aluminum, bronze, and marble. 69" x 58" x 1."
Available for purchase–please contact the artist.

The more I am involved in the making and teaching of visual art, the more I realize just how much I really don't know it. In the world of today's "cutting edge" art, the simple things in life, such as structure and composition, appear to have become dead end streets. Why bother developing the visual aesthetic of a work when the trendy belief is that the merit of today's art lies in its ability to stun? I find the whole thing quite tedious and similar to how I feel about people who enjoy making spectacles of themselves.

I am the first to admit the importance of pushing one's artistic paradigm; we as a species require change, advancement, and renovation to appease our omnipresent curiosity. We also have the tendency to make things much more complex than they need to be. As an image-maker, I also must follow those directions that present themselves to me, and as time would have it, information availability doesn't necessarily make things any easier. (Blinders don't seem to be an option!)

My personal "aesthetic charge" comes from unraveling materials and reconfiguring them into some kind of new order. The act alone is often enough; other times the substance of the work presents itself to me in a much more philosophical manner and informs me about myself. My work is meant to be looked at, not to guide, train, or shock into oblivion.

Composition denies chaos and is the basis of the physical order within which we live. It embraces us in every aspect of our society; the variety fluidizes our individual and collective self image. We live in compositions. We wear, listen to, and eat compositions. The structure imposed by composition is inescapable. As image-makers, our ability to logically manipulate structure, content, substance, and all other facets of composition is what separates us from all those other non-image-makers. The result of these activities become a language in and of itself, and falls more often than not within the realm of pure aesthetic.

As an artist, it is hard for me to imagine the difficulty faced by the artistic avant garde at the turn of the twentieth century as they wrestled with issues of art that are second nature to us today. These pioneers inadvertently developed incredibly shocking compositions, an example being Malevich with his White on White of 1918. The legacy produced by those modern artists from 100 or so years ago is still with us, and those works that we now revere in a historical as well as an aesthetic sense were produced by a breed of rebels who chose to challenge the traditional paradigm of image making. Those challenges are continuing to this day, although the borders of the paradigm have grayed considerably.