"Wednesday...
and you pulled me through the avalanche...
through that summer
Your voice
like a chorus of trees
burning in winter"
portraits
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With
Words
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“You've lead me to a stream
that cannot be crossed
but at the bank of desire I yield and your stone skips across me to leave your trace
forever for awhile
your love will pass
though your touch
like the stone sinks into memory even nowand never will it be swept away for every flood that will come quickly with the winter”
"
"Teach me to read
in the garden of blood asters
as night draws the dreams
of the lazy dead
to the canopy of our fingers”
FIGURES
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JOURNeys
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"2 Mai
Il fait mauvais temps...
The cities pass on these evening trains like a dream...
weeks now since that wordless night.
Ou est votre soldat maintenant?
Verona - Trieste - Munich - Vienna - Prague...
We all have our reasons for leaving.
You've now given me my own..."
Into White
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"what you never told him
he knows
what you told me
will remain
secret
till the beauty
in us runs out
or we no longer care"
The smallest of works...no bigger than an inch or two.
The detritus of the art process - scraps, tests, forgotten contact sheets, bits, pieces and what remains.
And (as with all the work) there are no digital elements or processing. Real textures on real (very small) surfaces.
THE LITTLE ONES
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“Time would draw you sleeping back to the earth
but history will tell of a Light born from your loss.
A root of Jesse springing forth from a bloody sheet..."
Sacred
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"That some people are prettier in the dark...
but not us."
EARLY WORK
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