|
||||||||
|
| "Over the years my work has seen many changes. First it was simply the recorded observations of a child interested in the mechanics of all things physical. Later it became the voice of my heart-- my only solace in the darkness–my only connection to the Divine. Later still it became analytical again, only now concerned with the mechanics of the Mind. I found plywood at the age of 19 in a closet in an apartment in Manhattan. I found it in dumpsters, at construction sites, and whenever I needed a solid substrate for my all-too-slippery ideas. At 37 years of age I have found plywood again; only now I have found it by putting on work boots, gloves, a respirator and ripping it from the houses I’ve gutted in an effort to rebuild our home in the wake of hurricane Katrina. A sixteen year resident of New Orleans, I am here to stay, and now more than ever I am committed to this medium which has become a permanent symbol for me. Plywood – the little umbrella we held up against a maelstrom. Plywood – the very stuff we used to entomb ourselves...and the same stuff we now rip from our windows to let in light, fresh air, and the sweet sound of music in the streets." |
