words

2002-2004

Each of these pieces began as a surface someone else had discarded—cardboard, plywood, paneling—painted mostly with mismixed house paint. On some I scrawled or stenciled words in spray paint or oil stick. On others I strung wire around bolts or nails to support tarot cards or small pieces of wood to create relief. I sometimes pasted in found images too, layering fragments of different media into the same field.

This was where I first began writing directly on paintings. The act was less about messaging than about opening something up. Something loosened in me. Not just in the gesture, but in my use of language. I started to let go of the need to get it “right”—to say exactly what I meant. I let ambiguity in. These pieces helped me begin to trust writing as a more fluid, instinctive act—less about control, more about listening.