This is Mine, 2020

From This Is Mine, Installation shot,

Three vintage Mercury Meteors all in one room! Click on the white arrrow half way up the image on the right (white on white is a little hard to see). Or double click on the image to see it larger.

This Is Mine!

A series that explores my identity as defined by objects.

After the deprivation of World War II and the depression, the 50's must have seen like a time of material wonder to my parents. Having a new car was a symbol of prestige that showed that our family was moving in the right direction. It became a proud symbol of our prosperity.

But of course, life is never that simple. Each image is layered with day to day life in the middle, sandwiched with the ethereal over head and the under world below.

Mercury Meteor 1956.

2018. approx 8 ft x 10 ft
charcoal, chalk, spray paint on paper.

I definitely remember this car. The same that Broderick Crawford drove in Hiway Patrol (I think). I would have been three. That's my older brother standing next to it. Or, rather, a fictive representation. I didn't want to restrict your experience, by focusing too much on the particulars of my family. So, I turned him into a young cow. Everyone can identify with farm animals.

Mercury Meteor 1956 Cowboy 1 detail

I really didn't care a thing about cars. I was told to stand there, so I did. My head would have been filled with epic stories featuring me as the hero. Battling in the clouds overhead seemed like a great way to spend the afternoons. No rockets for me. Propellers. Old school

Mercury Meteor 1956 Cowboy 2 detail

"GOT ME!" In a shootout - someone always has to die. As kids, we all specialized in re-enacting the most spectacular of deaths.

Mercury Meteor 1958

2018. approx 8 ft x 10 ft
charcoal, chalk, spray paint on paper.

I clearly remember this car. More importantly, I remember the houses and the people who lived across the street. I can name them all - the Flora's, the Badali's, the Thatcher's. In executing all these drawings, it has been very important to get those houses just right. I went back a few times recently to assure my authenticiy. While many have been turned into massive atrocities, a number of the original homes still remain.

Mercury Meteor 1958 Mole Rat detail

I don't know that mole rats lived under my drive way. Probably not. But I was pretty certain that something did.

Mercury Meteor 1963

2018. approx 8 ft x 10 ft
charcoal, chalk, spray paint on paper.

The last of the new cars. My father died suddenly that year. My mother is standing beside it having just come from the hospital with my new little brother in that bundle. My mother's "dress-up" attire included what she considered an elegant lamb's wool coat. So, going along with that theme, I turned her into a sheep. But that is one defiant sheep. In real life, my mother was anything but.

Mercury Meteor 1963 Bomb Shelter detail

I didn't know anyone who had one of these. But there were lots of ads for DIY kits.

The Secret Language of Objects, 2017

Not officially part of this particular series. But an earlier exploration of the identity that we (really, just me) project onto objects. Those are some of my favourite things. And yes, that is most definitely my hand.

Each sheet 22 in x 30 in. Charcoal, carbon and coloured pencil on paper

August Humming

2019, 5 panels, each 22 in. x 30 in.
Charcoal, digitally processed drawing collaged onto paper

As a kid, I was seriously allergic to ragweed pollen. Hayfever! From the first spring days to the first frost, I would spend entire summers either drugged to sleep or with streaming itchy eyes and a runny nose. In either case, unable to function. A perfect target for bullies.

August Humming Cicada detail

All the neighbourhood kids had theories about the surging humming noise that would pulse in and out of hot August afternoons. Most of us felt it was something to do with the power transformers. Maybe something was going to blow! Probably was just cicadas trilling.

Hoop (Bug Boy)

2019. approx 8 ft x 10 ft
charcoal, chalk, digitally processed drawing collaged onto paper.

I was a pretty happy kid. And although not lonely, I did spend a lot of time alone. Got to like bugs. Seemed like my kind of "people".

Hoop detail

Yep, that's me. Maybe 1958 or 1959. I wasn't all that bright, but I was determined. In this case, determined to master hula hoops, the latest craze in a craze crazy decade. Especially because my older brother wasn't so good at it. Maybe my turn to shine?

Circle

2019. approx 8 ft x 10 ft
charcoal, chalk, digitally
processed drawing collaged onto paper.

The late 50's and early 60's were times of unparalleled prosperity. But it was also the height of the Cold War and the nuclear arms race. At the time, propoganda reassured that we could survive a nuclear bomb. So, the air raids would sound and we practiced "duck and cover". But even the teachers must have realized the futlility of hiding under your desk. One day during a drill they led us downstairs and told us to sit on the pattern on the floor. Only years later did I realize that pattern was a bull's eye.

The story would be ironic and kind of funny - except, here we go again. Trump has just announced a re-invigorated arms race!

Circle Soviet Bomber detail

The kind of model plane that I would have been happy gluing together in my basement.

I Can't See You, 2019

Three irregularly shaped panels to make one triptych. Each panel approx 6 ft. x 6 ft. Charcoal, carbon pencil, spray paint and costume rhinestones.

And yes, that is me appearing in the two outside panels.

I Can't See You, left panel

Approx 6 ft x 6 ft, charcoal, carbon pencil, spray paint and costume rhinestones

I Can't See You, middle panel

Approx 6 ft x 6 ft, charcoal, carbon pencil, spray paint and costume rhinestones.

This panel is my exploration of what you might see when you squeeze your eyes shut tight. All the blurring and fizzing after images.

I Can't See You, left panel

Approx 6 ft x 6 ft, charcoal, carbon pencil, spray paint and costume rhinestones

I Can't See You, detail

Showing the funky dollar store jewels

You Are The Garden, 2019

I really like gardening. It may be my only true hobby. I revel in the garden's lushness. I like to send my mind down all the dark cracks, crevices and hidey holes where insects and other fantastic creatures might live. Comprised of nine panels, this is my exploration of my relationship to my garden. Both physcially and metaphorically. You will note that at the heart of my garden I have a small koi pond.

The linear structure invites a narrative interpretation, which I welcome. You can read the "story" any way that you like. Left to right, right to left, inside out, outside in.