This series began with photographs of abandoned farms in both rural, western Pennsylvania and rural Vermont. In an age of quarantine, I was able to visit my "quaranteam" - my sister and my closest friend from college. In an attempt to stay away from people, I found myself on winding country roads, trying to find solace as well as the spirit of my coutnry which, over the past several months seemed as lost and desolate as some of the farms I passed in my car.
How did we get here? Why are these structures left here? Atop mountains in Pennsylvania, farms emerge among field sof gravel from the fracking industry. And in Vermont, weather-beaten wooden structures lean wearily with age. They exist in both the past and the present, and raise questions about the future.
This isn't the first time I've seen some of these structures. Indeed, as I've traveled these roads before, I've witnessed nature slowly and gradually reclaim them. I return to them like old friends, searching for evidence of the past year, finding meaning in their resilience.
How did we get here? Why are these structures left here? Atop mountains in Pennsylvania, farms emerge among field sof gravel from the fracking industry. And in Vermont, weather-beaten wooden structures lean wearily with age. They exist in both the past and the present, and raise questions about the future.
This isn't the first time I've seen some of these structures. Indeed, as I've traveled these roads before, I've witnessed nature slowly and gradually reclaim them. I return to them like old friends, searching for evidence of the past year, finding meaning in their resilience.
The next stage of the process happens in my studio. Of the hundreds of photographs I take, I whittle them down until I find the photographs that are emblamatic of and best allude to an experiential and emotive sense of the places I experience when I'm there. I search for elements that tell the story of their place of origin. I then develop the images in black and white for screen printing and I burn the images as silkscreens.
While out and about I noticed weeds and wildflowers, and I collected them as I made my way along the roads. It never ceases to amaze me how much biodiversity exists in fields and meadows. I wanted to capture a sense of time and the best way was to cyanotype the collection of wildflowers I collected. Cyanotype, one of the earliest forms of photography, relies on the light of the sun to create a chemical reaction, leaving behind a brilliant and distinctive blue dye. Because the cyanotype emulsion is liquid, I painted with light around the screen printed photographic imagery.
In a way I saw this series as documentation and meditation. I was here, now. Before the backdrop of a challenging collective experience, there was beauty to be found. This was a collaboration with nature, extended further by the use of encaustic, which is painting with pigmented, molten wax. With roots that can be traced to ancient Egypt, encaustic paintings have existed for centuries. As i reflect on these times I draw strength from the history of artists who came before, using this medium, and all the human story that connects our current experience to the past.
Check out the series in person at Chester County Studio Tour and purchase pieces from this series from my shop
In a way I saw this series as documentation and meditation. I was here, now. Before the backdrop of a challenging collective experience, there was beauty to be found. This was a collaboration with nature, extended further by the use of encaustic, which is painting with pigmented, molten wax. With roots that can be traced to ancient Egypt, encaustic paintings have existed for centuries. As i reflect on these times I draw strength from the history of artists who came before, using this medium, and all the human story that connects our current experience to the past.
Check out the series in person at Chester County Studio Tour and purchase pieces from this series from my shop
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