Looking back at these paintings I’ve done since studio, it might be interpreted that I’m currently disturbed or something. Of course I am! I’m also really very happy: I get to see my family soon.

(However, I’d be lying if I said I were completely ready for break…I’m still hungry…I just started architecting, and it’s the most challenging and engaging thing I’ve done in my 19 years of existential absurdity [thanks for the Vonnegut books Tony….])

Back to these images:

It’s the cold weather. I just sometimes wish I could remove my skin like a piece of canvas, maybe work on the composition a bit. I’d lay it out in the studio, wrap up my bones in a blanket of thought and craft something a little less dry and a little more expressive to replace it with. I struggle with expression…I can do it with my hands, just not so much with my face and voice.

I remember when we were little, seeing who could make the funniest face, all the while joking that if we didn’t stop our faces would remain distorted and obscene. Now that we’re getting older I wonder how long before our stress is actually worn on our skin, in our posture and frailty. Of course its already happening…(and not just in a bad way: our joys and triumphs reveal themselves as well).

The most rewarding part of this semester was when a team of reviewers (in particular Karen Bermann…) said it was so refreshing to see how excited I was to be and designing and generating; I was afraid I had lost that excitement somewhere between high school and Hy Vee. That day (boathouse review followed by a lecture by David Heymann) changed everything for a lot of us.

‘Until that moment I felt like I was training my zeros to act like a figure eight… ‘


Thanks for reading.


One thought on “Skin

  1. I think that existential absurdity is less of a state of being for man and more of the state of the universe.

    That being said, it’s interesting that you would mention existentialism in congruence with a duo of images that relate to skin. I don’t know about you, but I’m finding the search for identity to be a difficult one.

    Maybe it’s not even really a search, but a process of making.

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