From top to bottom: 23h00m37s; 22h53m16s; 22h51m00s; 22h51m44s, 2010, Oil and photo-transfer on board, 11.25"w x 4.75" (each)
“Theater takes place all the time, wherever one is. And art simply facilitates persuading one this case.” — John Cage
As a kid, I used to believe people were living inside my television set. How else could Mr. Dress-up appear through the tube? If only I was allowed to break the glass barrier between Sesame Street and my living room, I could have enjoyed mouthfuls of cookies. Despite my fantasy of jumping through a “looking glass,” I soon learned that was not the reality. My television was old, and it began to show some glitch-like symptoms, automatically changing channels and distorting colors and figures. Today, with interaction increasingly being lived through a screen as visually crisp and informative as in real time and space, I feel privileged to have grown up witnessing flaws in technology. Between the progression of motion-sensitive technology to convincing computer-generated effects in film, for some, the distinction between illusion and reality may be harder to make. This begins my process of eliminating the difference between a window and screen through paint. A glitch is a flaw in a system that disrupts digital information on a screen. Paint is a tactile substance capable of creating convincing illusions on a surface. Starting with a panel, sized relative to a widescreen film format, I photo-transfer parts of glitch-infested screen shots from movies. Collaging only portions of the image, I restore the rest of the scene with paint. Playing with paint’s loose, chromatic and thin qualities versus the rigid, photo realistic and thin screen shots, I create a contrasting dialogue questioning what is real.
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