My work has become increasingly about the Jersey Shore, and I find that hysterical considering I came to NH five years ago to get away from just that.
The colours of my summers / the idea of water, and water as an environment whether Atlantic or river or chlorinated. A lot of this is chlorinated, actually. And of course there is wind and clouds.
This is maybe halfway there - it's about Sandy; I was in NH when Sandy struck, and I just imagine my dog during the whole thing. But also of course the structural devastation. I have this obsession with the idea of homes versus the physicality of houses, and I explore that in so much of my work. The drawing up top is of my childhood house from memory. My parents still live there, but I'm at the point during my life where they'll sell it soon and that's guna be so weird.... Along the side of this piece I wrote the words "water finds its own level." A thing my father taught me when I was very young. I remember being in the basement of what I think must've been his father's house and he had this long, clear hose that he filled with some water and was using to level something to the wall - I remember even at that young age being super impressed with this fact and my father's ingenuity.
This is another ball hitting water, a motif I keep returning to. It's kind of this event that is both tumultuous and fun and it holds this essence of summer for me, just playing volleyball in the pool // it's temporal and violent but at the same time, harmless. This one is least far along out of these three, I'd say...