The mysterious, invisible force in the universe called dark energy occupies perhaps 70% of the cosmos, a powerful metaphor suggesting that what we are able to observe may not be what is actually important. Artists share this difficulty of communion with the ineffable.
These seemingly disparate images of Black Hawk helicopters, internal organs, marshes, and sensuous frocks share elements of intimidation and vulnerability -- dual parts of a fundamental eroticism related to the sexual nature of forces that will inevitably overpower us.
Like a refined surveillance machine scanning a vulnerable object, the photographed landscapes wear their own system of analysis. These hot soft marshes, lush as a chiffon gown, resilient as a deep ops chopper, float behind a painted geometric code—an independent abstraction as well as a narrative on the site it obscures. The story suggests alternately that the marsh is dissolving, radiant, vulnerable to hurricanes yet calm and lovely as a Bodhisattva.
The vessels in this work are conspicuously empty, yet invisibly powered toward analogous states of movement—rotating, landing, hovering, flying, exploding. Peter Pan’s Shadow is a female alter ego and symbol for the emotional muscle women must often sustain to protect what is most at risk; Black Hawks are fluidly designed for immediate and critical maneuverability towards rescue or ruin. The screens were influenced by the complex symbolism of the shadow in J.M. Barre’s Peter Pan, who alternately assigned power to light and to darkness, innocence and maturity. Peter loses his shadow; the women find, save, and restore it, beginning an alchemical narrative exploring sexuality, fear, love and violence.
The frocks and organs reveal or conceal states of interiority. As fearless, angry, pensive, aroused, or transcendent characters, they pay homage to Flannery O’Connor’s deceptively grotesque, deeply sacramental themes set in the Deep South.