110 × 90 × 4 cm (43 × 35.5 × 1.5 inches)
Acrylic on canvas.
Free shipping anywhere in the world.
This felt like one of the more cosmic works, not because I was trying to make it cosmic, but because I was trying to understand how a formative experience between two people could somehow feel much larger than them. They are submerged together in a river, and there is something about this that feels like a baptism, a rite of passage, being taken into something and then coming out of it slightly different. I was thinking about growing up, and those moments where something shifts and you don’t necessarily understand it until much later.
I was reminded of Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse, and the way she can move between something very small and something enormous, where a human experience can suddenly seem to sit against something much older and larger. I was playing with that here, with the figures small within the space and the river opening out around them.
The butterfly came from a similar place. I was taking ideas from Rilke’s Duino Elegies, where transformation feels less like a clear event and more like something that is continually happening to us. I wanted to see if the butterfly could carry some of that feeling, without becoming too symbolic.
Perhaps this is what I am trying to get at, those moments when we are changing without quite knowing that we are, when something happens and becomes part of us, and somehow the ordinary can open onto something much bigger. I’m curious about that.
110 × 90 × 4 cm (43 × 35.5 × 1.5 inches)
Acrylic on canvas.
Free shipping anywhere in the world.
This felt like one of the more cosmic works, not because I was trying to make it cosmic, but because I was trying to understand how a formative experience between two people could somehow feel much larger than them. They are submerged together in a river, and there is something about this that feels like a baptism, a rite of passage, being taken into something and then coming out of it slightly different. I was thinking about growing up, and those moments where something shifts and you don’t necessarily understand it until much later.
I was reminded of Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse, and the way she can move between something very small and something enormous, where a human experience can suddenly seem to sit against something much older and larger. I was playing with that here, with the figures small within the space and the river opening out around them.
The butterfly came from a similar place. I was taking ideas from Rilke’s Duino Elegies, where transformation feels less like a clear event and more like something that is continually happening to us. I wanted to see if the butterfly could carry some of that feeling, without becoming too symbolic.
Perhaps this is what I am trying to get at, those moments when we are changing without quite knowing that we are, when something happens and becomes part of us, and somehow the ordinary can open onto something much bigger. I’m curious about that.
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