Groundswell Gallery
Groundswell Gallery

Denver, CO

Troubled by the recent heart-breaking diagnosis of my father with Alzheimer’s disease, the theme of my first solo show is elegiac and of personal origin. My father is the subject of these paintings.

Opening Night
Opening Night

The title of this exhibition, as well as the titles of each piece in the show come from the E. E.Cummings poem, “anyone lived in a pretty how town”. It is a poem about loss, fraught with garbled language and filled with juxtapositions.

little by little and was by was
little by little and was by was

Cummings subverts convention turning the expected upside down. Verbs become nouns. Adverbs become adjectives.

noone and anyone earth by april
noone and anyone earth by april

But unlike Cummings, who purposely switches syntax around, I watch my father wrestle with language and slowly lose insight into his own deficit.

they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same

The way Cummings disrupts language is correlative to the perception I now have of my father because of Alzheimer’s. Someone who I thought was one way, following expected behaviors, no longer follows those rules.

he sang his didn't he danced his did
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Capable of remembering less and less, it is so difficult to watch him slip away. He had so far to fall.

and only the snow can begin to explain
and only the snow can begin to explain

I wanted to capture images of my father holding flowers as a way of preserving my memory of him as a sweet and generous man. At the core, he is a happy and fun-loving person.

and down they forgot as up they grew
and down they forgot as up they grew

Within each painting, I try to work toward the dramatization of texture and color using layers of found papers containing words and numbers.

said their nevers they slept their dream
said their nevers they slept their dream

What is lost is buried under layers. What emerges highlights what I want to remember.

 Why show only the torso and flower bouquet? This man could be anyone. Holding a bouquet represents the hope we all hold: That beauty, softness and care can expand in one’s life even when parts of our ’selves’ are missing.

Why show only the torso and flower bouquet? This man could be anyone. Holding a bouquet represents the hope we all hold: That beauty, softness and care can expand in one’s life even when parts of our ’selves’ are missing.

1b&w dad holds roses.JPG
dad tulip crop.JPG
Groundswell Gallery
Opening Night
little by little and was by was
noone and anyone earth by april
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
he sang his didn't he danced his did
and only the snow can begin to explain
and down they forgot as up they grew
said their nevers they slept their dream
 Why show only the torso and flower bouquet? This man could be anyone. Holding a bouquet represents the hope we all hold: That beauty, softness and care can expand in one’s life even when parts of our ’selves’ are missing.
1b&w dad holds roses.JPG
dad tulip crop.JPG
Groundswell Gallery

Denver, CO

Troubled by the recent heart-breaking diagnosis of my father with Alzheimer’s disease, the theme of my first solo show is elegiac and of personal origin. My father is the subject of these paintings.

Opening Night

The title of this exhibition, as well as the titles of each piece in the show come from the E. E.Cummings poem, “anyone lived in a pretty how town”. It is a poem about loss, fraught with garbled language and filled with juxtapositions.

little by little and was by was

Cummings subverts convention turning the expected upside down. Verbs become nouns. Adverbs become adjectives.

noone and anyone earth by april

But unlike Cummings, who purposely switches syntax around, I watch my father wrestle with language and slowly lose insight into his own deficit.

they sowed their isn't they reaped their same

The way Cummings disrupts language is correlative to the perception I now have of my father because of Alzheimer’s. Someone who I thought was one way, following expected behaviors, no longer follows those rules.

he sang his didn't he danced his did

Capable of remembering less and less, it is so difficult to watch him slip away. He had so far to fall.

and only the snow can begin to explain

I wanted to capture images of my father holding flowers as a way of preserving my memory of him as a sweet and generous man. At the core, he is a happy and fun-loving person.

and down they forgot as up they grew

Within each painting, I try to work toward the dramatization of texture and color using layers of found papers containing words and numbers.

said their nevers they slept their dream

What is lost is buried under layers. What emerges highlights what I want to remember.

Why show only the torso and flower bouquet? This man could be anyone. Holding a bouquet represents the hope we all hold: That beauty, softness and care can expand in one’s life even when parts of our ’selves’ are missing.

show thumbnails