There are three concurrent (and counter) threads running through my work:
I have worn corrective lenses since I was in elementary school. The lenses do a good job, but they’re usually a little dirty and unclear. As an artist working primarily in visual media, there’s a tension I express between sharp and soft vision, and between wide and closed eye vision.
I express this tension formally with very narrow and shifting depth of field, as well as with a material comfort with industry-clarity and HD production as well as legacy consumer media (such as VHS, Super 8mm, and miniDV) which degrade sharpness by default. Emotionally, this tension displays itself in the subtle narcissistic gestures that digital media affords. This tension is explained by a commitment to a subjective artistic vision, not necessarily bound by craft or commerce.
My work is remarkably minimal, and takes a lot of emotional cues from post-minimal artists and experimental filmmakers working in post-structural forms. I use simple structures, long takes, purposefully defocused subjects, and formally sparse compositions as a way to build dramatic anxiety. I always work to find some release of this anxiety in the revelation of small bits of explanatory information.
I’ve found, perhaps not surprisingly, that empty space is also densely packed space. Every detail is a potential universe of meaning; minimalism is my overture to an audience, hoping they’ll take the time to unpack each frame before they move on to the next.
[old man's teeth]
My work is concerned with fringe or forgotten histories, unacknowledged memories, and other hidden fingerprints of a gradually receding present moment. Uncovering these memories and hidden details can cause a violent break with the present, and so this process represents a certain amount of danger.
There is always a disconcerting thread running through my work that acts as a caution to remain grounded in the present tense with you (the audience), hopefully, even as it slips away.