I've been making books filled with collage-paintings. These have about 150 -200 pages in each book. I've made five, three of them during the pandemic -- automatically, unplanned, using imagery and language from home design magazines and books published in the 1940s and 50s with titles like The Peoples of the United States, America and Me, and YOU and the Americas. I bought them at the local library during one of their "bag of books for a dollar" sales.
What am I looking for as I try to translate all of this pain into these densely filled paintings just a little bigger than an iPhone?
I am saying to myself that there is still a place and need for some kind of beauty, for painting, for art.
I am saying, as Bertolt Brecht put it,
"In the dark times,
Will there also be singing?
Yes, there will be singing.
About the dark times.”