A thought about paintings: potentially their backsides remain the same so that everything else can change, in full sight, chaotically, unabashedly honest in metaphor and biography–this brush stroke is how I’ve lived my life, one might say–inciting the Painted to proclaim its inverse existence, like a face with all its sensory orifices projecting instead of taking in, or a still-life commanding you to stand still and be seen.
Outside their perimeters are the parameters of my own daily living, in which I generally keep quiet, eat lots of fruit, and snap pictures with my phone. (He currently studies and paints in New York City.)
Bonjour Winston!
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