2 Weeks

I went into the woods every day for two weeks. 

They say it takes three weeks to build a habit.

I Am The (Re)Presentative

I like to stack and balance things, I'm pretty good at it. 

Two pieces of wood, one slice of polyethylene, 

And one generic Caesar head wrapped in drywall tape.

I am the (re)presentative. 

Horse

Canoe

"An Indian is the servo-mechanism of his canoe, as the cowboy of his horse, or the executive his clock."

-Marshall McLuhan

Flatland

I wore casts to protect my legs.

I learned about  Flatland to perceive God in Christ.

I drew on the pages of Holy Scripture.

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Jesus Jelly Beans

Thank you, Lord, for these jelly beans that remind me of your love.

Black represents my sinful heart, keeping from you above.

Red represents the blood you shed to provide salvation free.

White shows the cleansing of my sin as I put my faith in Thee.

Yellow is for heaven above, my new home I'll have someday.

Green is for the growth I will see as I read your Word and pray.

Purple shows you are King of all, the one I choose to obey.

Thank you, Lord, for these jelly beans.

They mean more than words can say.

My aunt gave these to me a few years ago.

I sat them on my dresser. 

They stayed there for weeks.  

One day I was craving some sugar 

So I started to eat them all in one sitting, 

Until I tasted the sin flavored bean. 

That is when I stopped. 

I spit it back in the bottle.

They have been in my studio ever since.

Mistletoe and Red Tailed Hawks

My dad has been pointing out mistletoe to me for most of my life as we drive along highways. I am fascinated by it. I try to collect some every Christmas at my grandfather's house. I have trained my eye to spot it from a great distance, being careful not to confuse it with a squirrel's nest. I am amazed at how common it is in Tennessee and how few people I talk to notice it.

Mistletoe spotting is a Winter game.

Laura (my fiancée) and I counted fifteen red tailed hawks last winter on our way back to Nashville from Knoxville. There are usually four along Vietnam Veterans Blvd. There is one that sits on the western tree line at the I-65/I-24 split north of Nashville. Lipscomb and Vanderbilt University have their own hawk.

I can again thank my father for this. On the weekends, when he would pick my brother and I up from my mom's house, we would hawk-spot. It was a competition. Even though my dad was driving he would still win. Over the years we developed rules. You cannot point your finger to the trees or say "maybe" without the penalty of loosing a point. Every hawk is a point and every crow, buzzard, clump of leaves, and stump is minus a point. I like to think that now I win most of the time, though I have to admit that Laura is getting pretty good. If it were not for the advantage of knowing where they like to perch, she would beat me. And as of late, my dad seems to see hawks that no one else sees. I am suspect, therefore we have developed the rule of "confirmation" to address these mystery birds.

Hawk spotting is a Winter game.

Gun Rack & Gold Pan

These are the front feet of the first deer I killed. They have been used for seventeen years to hold guns, crossbows, walking canes, and cable cords on my grandfather's chimney. I remember him suggesting that we do this soon after I killed the deer. But I do not remember who cut them off.

My grandfather mounted them on plaques that he received in the 1970's for being the judge to hairstyling competitions in Kentucky and South Carolina.

This is a gold pan that my grandfather had hanging in his house for many years when I was young. One day, at least ten years ago, he brought it to me with a large burn above the mountains. He told me that the hanging device had fallen off the back and that he tried to weld a new one on but the heat burned the paint. He then asked me, because I am an artist, if I would fix it. I never did, I never gave it back, I have kept it in storage all of this time.

You cannot turn in an unfinished project.

Statement of Intention

My hands have calluses, sturdy fingers, meaty palms, and scars to remind me everyday that they were designed for hard labor. I have been digging dirt, rock, concrete, and asphalt for most of my life. But I am also digging something else. I am unearthing my personal and cultural history in search of a critical reliquary.

I intend to curate these artifacts in a way that builds space and time between honesty/deceit, joy/sorrow, veneration/shame. My intent is human being through objects and pictures, embedding images that copulate and bear fruit.