These paintings explore my day-to-day relationship with technology.
Artist Statement
This series began with taking inventory. Not of my art, retail items, or painting supplies, but rather with counting, measuring and qualifying my thoughts and impulses throughout the day. I began to notice much more viscerally the nagging, incessant, vibrating source of much of my distraction and even anxiety on a regular basis: my phone. I realized that I had an overwhelming urge to check it for messages every ten minutes. When there were none, (especially when I was expecting them) a certain mild distress ensued, followed by an increased desire to continue checking my phone. When I did have messages, a brief rise in dopamine, along with stronger urges to continue checking. Then one day, I tried turning my phone off.
The goal that I had in mind with this practice of ‘unplugging’ was to fully immerse myself in my painting; to come back from autopilot and truly experience absolutely everything – the subtle differences in my colors, the smell of the paint, the light of day, the taste of my lunch, the walk down the hallway to the bathroom – and to take it all in as with brand new eyes and ears, and a new-found sense of gratitude. As I started to unplug more often, in social settings, or times of rest and solitude, my phone became less of a nuisance and more of the utilitarian object it is supposed to be. Life is different now than it was a year ago. This small change has brought about a deeper richness to life and relationships than I’ve known for a long time. This process has rendered me utterly stricken with the sheer magnitude of the current situation that I feel many of us are experiencing in our day-to-day lives; we have to physically turn off an electronic device in order to be 100% present and engaged in what we are doing, who we are with, and the information we choose to retain.
These paintings are a reflection on my period of taking inventory. While some paintings radiate clashing, headache-inducing colors, others highlight the beauty in simplicity, stillness, and presence. It is an ongoing practice to retrain my brain to release dopamine for my more worthy endeavors, like making art, loving the people around me, or finding an exciting cause; a practice that brings with it the joy of simply understanding how it feels to be a human.
This series began with taking inventory. Not of my art, retail items, or painting supplies, but rather with counting, measuring and qualifying my thoughts and impulses throughout the day. I began to notice much more viscerally the nagging, incessant, vibrating source of much of my distraction and even anxiety on a regular basis: my phone. I realized that I had an overwhelming urge to check it for messages every ten minutes. When there were none, (especially when I was expecting them) a certain mild distress ensued, followed by an increased desire to continue checking my phone. When I did have messages, a brief rise in dopamine, along with stronger urges to continue checking. Then one day, I tried turning my phone off.
The goal that I had in mind with this practice of ‘unplugging’ was to fully immerse myself in my painting; to come back from autopilot and truly experience absolutely everything – the subtle differences in my colors, the smell of the paint, the light of day, the taste of my lunch, the walk down the hallway to the bathroom – and to take it all in as with brand new eyes and ears, and a new-found sense of gratitude. As I started to unplug more often, in social settings, or times of rest and solitude, my phone became less of a nuisance and more of the utilitarian object it is supposed to be. Life is different now than it was a year ago. This small change has brought about a deeper richness to life and relationships than I’ve known for a long time. This process has rendered me utterly stricken with the sheer magnitude of the current situation that I feel many of us are experiencing in our day-to-day lives; we have to physically turn off an electronic device in order to be 100% present and engaged in what we are doing, who we are with, and the information we choose to retain.
These paintings are a reflection on my period of taking inventory. While some paintings radiate clashing, headache-inducing colors, others highlight the beauty in simplicity, stillness, and presence. It is an ongoing practice to retrain my brain to release dopamine for my more worthy endeavors, like making art, loving the people around me, or finding an exciting cause; a practice that brings with it the joy of simply understanding how it feels to be a human.
