Keeping and Giving

My last post was in February. I am disappointed in myself. My excuse of relentless school and/or travel is also disappointing. In any event, last week, I found myself with two plan-free days on my hands, and, after wiping the dust off of my paint supplies, I got to work.

This is the time of year when I get angsty about my wardrobe. It seems overly large, overly uncoordinated, overly unprofessional, or overly something. So I go through the annual purge, where everything finds itself in a large heap on my bed. I then spend several hours playing dress-up until I end up with a neatly folded pile of clothes that I feel ready to dispose of in one way or another (rags, Goodwill, consignment). I have developed, over the years, strict criteria for this process. 1) Do I own something similar that I will, in every conceivable circumstance, choose over this item? 2) Is it just a little too small or way too small? Is it just a little too big or way too big? 3) Is it stained, misshapen, or in some other way unsalvageable? 4) Even if it's incredibly beautiful/cool/interesting and I enjoy glancing at it in my closet on occasion, have I worn it in the last five years?

I use this system (a set of policies, if you will) because I find this process incredibly painful. At risk of sounding like a flaming materialist, I find that objects, and clothing in particular, take on

identities shaped by the stories of how they came into my possession, and what they have borne witness to over the course of my ownership. Breaking them or giving them away involves reconciling myself not only to the loss of the functional part, but to the loss of the emotional part as well. A few years ago, somebody (accidentally, I hope) walked off with my generic-looking black wool coat at a big New Year's party. I did not feel violated, as some people describe that experience, nor did I worry that I had lost something of monetary value. Instead, I found myself thinking, "I didn't get to say goodbye to it." I guess this is probably what is happening during my annual purge. I'm saying goodbye.

I paint objects because I find them a fascinating study in contrast. They are inanimate but they tell stories. They are inert but they have lives. They are inherently meaningless but inscribed with significance. They have longevity but they are fragile. My paintings usually depict still-lifes, but are also a form of self-portraiture, and they give me the chance to negotiate my relationship to object and to memory as I work. Additionally, they allow me to create a record, so that I still have something by which to remember the things that end up in the give pile.

From a formal stance, I attempt to contrast a painterly representational style used to depict the space/object against a more hyper-realized abstract style used to capture the patterned surface of the object. This duality in style creates, for me, an interesting parallel to my dual experience of objects as both functional and emotional.

Keep/Give, oil on gessoed paper, 8.5 x 11"