A few years ago, I made a set of small folded-steel frames to explore the relationship between an image and the space around it—as well as the space perceived within it. Creating drawings that truly activate that space has been more challenging than I expected. Over the past couple of years, I’ve tried a number of approaches on and off. Here’s a current iteration of the three central frameworks in the series.
I’m delighted and honored that these are featured in the @sundoggallery ‘Small Works’ show, on view through April 22. If you’re interested in any of the works, please contact @sundoggallery directly—either way, I’ll keep iterating on the series after the show.
A few years ago when I was in Venice, I carried around a small, passport-sized, softback sketchbook that I could easily slip into my back pocket. This wasn’t my main sketchbook for the trip, but it was small enough that I had it on me at all times. I treated it as a sort of “B-roll” sketchbook—I didn’t feel much pressure to get all I could out of each page, or even to complete sketches. Looking back through it now, I’m struck by how much I value these low-pressure moments—drawings made without agenda, just a way to fill a few spare minutes.
I love drawing dinosaur bones. There is so much that is spatial in their skeletons.
Of course, drawing them requires museum visits. Often the drawing quarters are tight and the other patrons are quite excited. While I was working on one of these sketches, another patron busied themselves telling me velociraptor and Utah raptor facts, for which I was grateful. At nearly the same time, my wife overheard the following conversation between two younger patrons who entered the space:
Patron one: “Like, I don’t want to freak you out, but—I don’t believe in dinosaurs.” Patron two: “What! They are literally right here!” Patron one: “I know. They’re just too ridiculous...”
I’m currently going back through some old sketches—redrawing and analyzing the work to clarify ideas that emerged the first time around. The process is iterative, and it tends to spread out.
Inevitably, I end up with a number of sketchbooks cluttering my workspace. I don’t often take photos while I’m in the midst of working. But sometimes, after finishing a stretch of work, I’ll reenter the studio the next day and find the desk worth photographing. These are some recent photos.
One of my favorite times to draw this summer was on the train. I made a sort of game of it—starting a drawing from something glimpsed out the window, sketching what I saw, glancing back up, and then trying to incorporate the next thing that caught my eye. I wasn’t strict about it; I’d just wait until something sparked my interest before diving back in. The continuous motion of the train ensured the drawing could only be so precise. I braced my hand against the sketchbook to steady my lines, though the quick, gestural movements often gave the best results. The compositions themselves are quite varied. Sometimes recognizable fragments emerge; other times they dissolve entirely into abstraction.
In either case, the unpredictability of the process became a way of challenging myself to work with what I couldn’t control—to compose through change rather than against it.
My Frameworks drawings are an ongoing series that explore the role of line and profile, light and shadow, volume, object, and memory in the formation of perceived depth and the associative potential of a drawing. The works attempt to see beyond the two-dimensional singularity of any particular image—exploring multiple readings and extracting a sensibility of spatial qualities emerging on the page.
I am always honored when my work is selected to enter private collections, so I was grateful to see these two drawings off to a new home. They were developed through a serial process of exploration, from which I gained a deeper understanding of spatial qualities perceived in pictorial space. Now I’m delighted to see them recontextualized within a collection centered on the use and perception of light.
Finding time to sketch on location is always a challenge. Weather, view obstruction, and most of all schedule conflicts often make unfinished works inevitable. In the past I have reworked unfinished drawings into exploratory compositions, or used the partially filled pages for unrelated notes. This summer I chose to leave the unfinished sketches be, their open-ended nature providing a place for imagination and memory to overlap. Here is a compilation of works in progress that will, in all likelihood, remain that way.
When traveling by air, I often spend the time drawing. Rather than focusing on representation, I work through spatial ideas and iterate on residual forms. What started as a way to take a break from specific projects has become something of a project on its own: a way to explore open-ended spatial ideas and unresolved forms. Here are some selections from this summer’s flights.
A number of months ago, I was contacted by @victionworkshop and invited to include a curated selection of my work in a publication focusing on sketchbooks. Although I’m behind on posting about this, I’m thrilled to see the publication and honored to be part of it. I was also delighted to see my work placed adjacent to @alabauth , whose work I have quietly admired for years.
Thank you to the @victionworkshop workshop team for producing such an interesting, varied, and high-quality publication.
