I am drawn to Greek frescoes. As time passes, the walls they are painted on stay intact, but the artists’ effort deteriorates piece by piece. Fragments that remain give clues as to what was once there. Eventually, the image no longer exists. This is reminiscent of our own fragility and inability to recall memories.

At seventeen years old a virus attacked my heart. Doctors could not explain how I survived. I live knowing that the virus could come back at anytime. So of course, I ponder what defines my existence. Is it memory? Are biased, inaccurate, and unreliable thoughts all we have? When I paint, I try to mimic the way I remember. What I recall most vividly is rendered more completely. Other details are implied, erased, or left out all together. The seemingly unfinished nature of the work reflects the incompleteness of thought and recollection.

Highlighting the flawed nature of perception is a way I express the uncertainty of mortality. To do this, I try to create space that is inconsistent or ambiguous. Emphasizing the surface of the painting is like an allegory for the helplessness I feel. As in a fresco, I acknowledge that my image will also disappear from its surface over time.