The Range Series, inspired by the cinematic climax of the film The Last Picture Show, revisits the death scene of cinema itself. Within the movie, The Last Picture Show, we are witness to the death of a small Texas town as symbolized by the closing of its movie house. In the theater’s final screening, we see a short scene from the movie, Red River, savored by the town’s few remaining residents. In it, cowboy’s cattle call, like talking heads in extreme close-up, to start the long cattle drive in a movie about progress and movement, laid within a movie about decline and inertia. My drawings, like a movie still, are frames frozen in time, caught somewhere between ecstasy and agony. They act as artistic remnants of our own psychological ambivalence – we are the West, both projected hero and fallen icon. Somewhere between pleasure and pain, these images flicker forever in the psyche-- manifest as a shimmering, mirage-like myth in the cultural imaginary.

A drawl marks you, whether intentionally or not, as having a geographic past, with all the associative baggage that locale carries. This slow inflection can surface unexpectedly, even after a long absence from the place of its origin. Some may work diligently to remove this mark, only to find later that they somehow miss its enduring familiar.

My sand drawings, drawlings, are elegies of loss and absence. Each image formed through its own displacement, lines formed through the removal of sand, laments the condition of its exile. Each drawing is a moment rooted in rootlessness. Simultaneously, it represents the speed with which the mark is made and the ease with which it can be erased.  

We are like grains of sand upon a field, gathering in pockets, only to be subject to our inevitable displacement. My drawlings embody a moment of transformation. Their movement elegizes the erosion of the land, the whip of wind that scatters dust. They depict the presence of a shadow, the play of light through air, the threadbare homestead no longer in existence, a drawing based on the blurred photograph you barely recall.

In their fragility, the drawings reflect our own flimsy casing, each surface a transparent skin. Like celluloid, they act as a screen for our own psychological projections-- an atmosphere colored and clouded by ambivalence. Drawlings examine the residuals of experience, the complex nature of our own mortality. They embody the hometown you cannotreturn to, the place that was yours, now in memory more intimately possessed.

My work seeks to create a landscape in sand, which speaks of its own personal history, migration, the passage of time and memory’s melancholic effects. The “past” states Stuart Hall is “always constructed through memory, fantasy, narrative and myth.” Drawlings, like cultural identities, function as shifting, unstable points within a larger historical framework. In its deterioration, the drawing, itself, will be reduced in the end to a ghost; the body reduced to ash. What you remember of the piece, ultimately is what you are left with – a living presence, an imprint of the past.

The Range Series drawings, inspired by the cinematic climax of the film The Last Picture Show, revisits the death scene of cinema itself. Within the movie, The Last Picture Show, we are witness to the death of a small Texas town as symbolized by the closing of its movie house. In the theater’s final screening, we see a short scene from the movie, Red River, savored by the town’s few remaining residents. In it, cowboy's cattle call, like talking heads in extreme close-up, to start the long cattle drive in a movie about progress and movement, laid within a movie about decline and inertia. My drawings, like a movie still, are frames frozen in time, caught somewhere between ecstasy and agony. They act as artistic remnants of our own psychological ambivalence – we are the West, both projected hero and fallen icon. Somewhere between pleasure and pain, these images flicker forever in the psyche-- manifest as a shimmering, mirage-like myth in the cultural imaginary.

A drawl marks you, whether intentionally or not, as having a geographic past, with all the associative baggage that locale carries. This slow inflection can surface unexpectedly, even after a long absence from the place of its origin. Some may work diligently to remove this mark, only to find later that they somehow miss its enduring familiar.

My sand drawings, drawlings, are elegies of loss and absence. Each image formed through its own displacement, lines formed through the removal of sand, laments the condition of its exile. Each drawing is a moment rooted in rootlessness. Simultaneously, it represents the speed with which the mark is made and the ease with which it can be erased. We are like grains of sand upon a field, gathering in pockets, only to be subject to our inevitable displacement. My drawlings embody a moment of transformation. Their movement elegizes the erosion of the land, the whip of wind that scatters dust. They depict the presence of a shadow, the play of light through air, the threadbare homestead no longer in existence, a drawing based on the blurred photograph you barely recall.

In their fragility, these drawings reflect our own flimsy casing, each surface a transparent skin. Like celluloid, they act as a screen for our own psychological projections-- an atmosphere colored and clouded by ambivalence. Drawlings examine the residuals of experience, the complex nature of our own mortality. They embody the hometown you cannot return to, the place that was yours, now in memory more intimately possessed.

This work seeks to create a landscape in sand, which speaks of its own personal history, migration, the passage of time and memory’s melancholic effects. The “past” states Stuart Hall is “always constructed through memory, fantasy, narrative and myth.” Drawlings, like cultural identities, function as shifting, unstable points within a larger historical framework. In its deterioration, the drawing, itself, will be reduced in the end to a ghost; the body reduced to ash. What you remember of the piece, ultimately is what you are left with – a living presence, an imprint of the past.