Why I Rub

Why I rub

When I walk down the streets of NYC, millions of images inspire me.
The buildings, cars and trash, are a disorderly, jumble of stimuli. My focus is to capture the soft images and graceful shapes lock in the cold, ridged cement and steel.
I am a modern archeologist gathering impressions for my own selfish research. My journey is a capsule of bits and pieces of time and memory in texture. These marks and surfaces are the hieroglyphics of my city language---a palette alive in many shades of gray.
Touch is everything in my work. I apply pressure as I work, to create tonal interest and add primary colors to stimulate and accentuate these impressions. I create as I go, letting the environment interface and surprise me. It draws me in as I draw it out. I look high and low and wish I could fly.
As I walk from one neighborhood to another, I look for surfaces and material hidden underfoot and in private doorways. I see an amputated old chair, it cries out from under a cardboard box. I cover it with my paper and stroke and stroke the surface with my large graphite crayon. It’s new purpose, evolves into a series of beautiful flowing lines and rich tones. Later, I see a crushed metal crate lying alone in it’s altered state. I cover it with my paper and massage the pattern subtly to reveal its pleasure-- like kissing a stone you love to touch. Sometimes, I turn the corner of a street, and see an interesting relief on a building too high to reach. I ache to have it. This time I take my camera, and capture it for my database.

These intimate relationships and techniques play an important part of the random journeys that chronicles my art process. Rubbing is the art of stroking and giving value to the creative process ---a life long rosary of wishes, dreams and magic. Art is a journey, and I have a one-way ticket to secret places and spaces. Each trip giving birth to unexpected drawings or paintings. Fine lines turn into dancing rhythm that morphs into tonal song that breath when I do. I scratch, rub and nurture the surface of my life and my work.