"I remember I wanted to get to non art, non connotive, non anthropomorphic, non geometric, non nothing, everything, but of another kind, vision, sort. From a total other reference point. Is it possible?" – Eva Hesse


The sentiments expressed by Eva Hesse are similar to my own, but not entirely. To some degree, I would say that my work is anthropomorphic. Perhaps it is non-connotive, but, if it is, would I be able to write this statement without being contradictory? Perhaps, then, it is connotive but not in a concrete way. The part of Hesse's statement that I feel merits the most emphasis is that which reads, "everything, but of another kind, vision, sort. From a total other reference point." My work attempts to create that new reference point; to develop landscapes that have not necessarily been seen before. An individual recently viewed a piece of mine in the school's gallery and expressed her affinity for realism in art. After responding to her it occurred to me that, essentially, I am a realist. My work consists of real things, real objects, and real materials. My objective is paradoxical: I create real yet not altogether familiar images. It is important (if not imperative) when creating my art to create these new reference points. Peter Eisenmann deems it necessary for art and architecture to be devoid of representation, simulation, and its reference to history. When one invents an artwork's sight, its history, and its representation the work begins to dissimulate. The work is a text and, to echo the notions of Eisenmann, I want my work to function in this way; I want my work to invent its own origins, to have its own history. I want it to create new reference points and new landscapes.

In order to create its own history, the pieces must be devoid of representation. If representation were involved, the work would naturally be making references to things outside of itself. Thus, the resin is layered upon itself, each layer adding to its history. As the layers develop, the work becomes very muted. Merely gazing at the surface gives the illusion that there is little going on below. For that reason I invoke the use of light. The light reveals the work's history; it engenders and sustains life, it elucidates. When the pieces are illuminated they take on a new life. They are imbued with vitality. This life, this imbued vitality gives the work its quasi-anthropomorphic quality. I immerse my work in light and it, in turn, the flat surface reveals depth; the light reveals nuances. Light completely transforms the appearance of the piece.

Though light elucidates the work, it doesn't control it. The work still has the power to obfuscate. Depths revealed by the light still exist behind an opaque wall and, consequently, keeping secret the exact nature of what lies beneath the surface. Kurt Anderson states, "In art and design and culture I think we actually crave a certain amount of complexity; some interesting murkiness. Translucency." The light reveals nuances but it does not completely expose the depths. This uncertainty intrigues the viewer. The work functions properly when "its essence remains half-hidden, slightly murky, which is central to its beauty and its appeal."

The fact that the outcome of the work is not known until it is illuminated adds to its history. To reference Hesse once more, her works became interesting when they went beyond her expectations. Similarly, my works do not mirror my expectations exactly despite that fact that it is what I seek. My work becomes interesting when illuminated and makes known whether or not it matched my expectations.