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I was born on the prairie and the milk of its wheat, the red of its clover, the eyes of its women, gave me a song and a slogan. -Carl Sandburg, “Prairie” from Cornhuskers, 1918
As a child, growing up in a collection of river towns along the banks of the mighty Mississippi, my dad and I watched the barges at lock and dam #15 while taking breaks from fishing. My friends and I played baseball, dug in the dirt, and spent an awful lot of time riding our bmx bikes in the woods. I also took a lot of trips to 'the country' when I was younger, to visit my brother and sister on their Iowa farms. |
| Throughout my life, I have consistently felt a romanticized draw to the bucolic, and in the last few years, it has maintained an indelible impact on my artistic aesthetic. The folklore told by my elder family members (and by literary heroes from the plain states) continually finds its way into my installation pieces. Songs and legends stemming from the rural Midwest influence new paintings. Most important, however, is the land itself. There has not been a more dominant force behind my work than the open prairie of the Midwestern landscape. It has become an aggrandized mother figure of sorts, a place whose simplicity and calmness drives me to make my more serene, minimal pieces. |
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