Memory

Unconsciously, I have been exploring themes related to memory through my art practice for years. I choose to paint the landscapes of my childhood not because they’re “pretty,” but because they help me pull apart time and moments. Every now and then I need to set aside recognizable imagery, the adherence to
line, and the preoccupation with “getting it right” for abstraction.

What is a core memory? Where is the moment when even a photo doesn’t prompt a connection? Embedded in this work is a photograph of my father and me in the Chickahominy River encircled by the rippling current. It was buried deep in a drawer for forty years, only shades of umber and sepia remain. I have plenty of feelings and memories from my preschool years, but I did not keep this one. I am confident my father, who is progressing rapidly through the latter stages of Alzheimer’s, no longer recollects this day.

Now this forgotten memory holds special significance. As I’ve worked on this piece, adding layer upon layer of cold wax and oil paint, I have scrapped back this one section, preserving the image, rescuing the memory.