You grew up here. This is the corner where you tested your freedom and wandered further than you had before. This is the road where your grandmother bought you your first ice coffee.
This is where the car pulled over because your sisters were driving you crazy in the back seat. This is where your best friend thought it would be funny to ring and run. This is the main street where your grandparents met and decided that the other was not too bad. This is where your dad taught you to drive and your mom bravely allowed you to practice on her.
This is where we grew up and all of these streets, these corners and these places are the fabric of our memories. They bear witness’ as the opaque veil of time slowly descends. The people who shaped us, those that taught us, the ones we loved, these places are the testimony that they were here.
I paint the city for the grand reason that this is who we are. The familiar corner, the familiar spaces trigger the moments that exist now only in our minds.
What happens when these catalysts are lost? Do you remember when you don’t have a reason to remember. If you are the only holder of the vivid images, smells and feelings and you loose what activates these, did any of it exist? was any of it important?
I paint the city because it bears witness
I paint the city because it is not static, it is rich and evolving and it strives to be everything to everyone and in the process, places are lost.
The catalysts of activation are lost when the physical spaces change. Your bearings are confused and you pass through space with nothing familiar to hit play until your confusion passes and you find yourself forgetting to remember.
I paint the city because I bear witness to the witness.