I first began working on maps as a way to localize and ground my drawings of the human figure. I wanted to explore the ways in which a map of a specific location could anchor the figure, locating it regionally and spatially in ways that were important to my sense of place as an artist. I found, as I went along, that these maps I was making would work in curious ways. They would ground the painting at the same time that, in unexpected ways, they loosened it up. Through this process I came to see how maps would not only contain the figure but set it free as well.
My choice of maps expanded to topographic, nautical, and aeronautical charts, which led to an ongoing series of works that explored the ways in which maps gave flight to my imagination.
Like paintings, maps create a world parallel to our own. A map can both tell us where we’ve been (or at least, where we think we’ve been) and help us to figure out where we want to go. But the destination is as often as not a figure of pure imagination containing the hopes and fears of the artist as well as the culture in which the artist works. In this sense, a map provides a unique canvas on which to explore the ways in which we structure our sense of place while searching for ways in which to imagine something else entirely different.
My choice of maps expanded to topographic, nautical, and aeronautical charts, which led to an ongoing series of works that explored the ways in which maps gave flight to my imagination.
Like paintings, maps create a world parallel to our own. A map can both tell us where we’ve been (or at least, where we think we’ve been) and help us to figure out where we want to go. But the destination is as often as not a figure of pure imagination containing the hopes and fears of the artist as well as the culture in which the artist works. In this sense, a map provides a unique canvas on which to explore the ways in which we structure our sense of place while searching for ways in which to imagine something else entirely different.
