When I look at these paintings, I see paint on paint, color on color, pigment over pigment.
Color is coming forward, but receding. Color is trying to come out. It's a force of its own, yet it can't quite make it to the surface.
These strokes, I just find so beautiful, so pronounced. By layering, they take control of the eye. They guide the eye with subtle, overlapping textures. This is, to me, a visual and abstract representation of memory itself. Because layering is what memory is, in a sense. One memory; one experience on top of the other. Always trying to reach the surface. Memories are not everything we are, they are not all we experience and perceive. They are only a part of us. But they are built, one on top of the other. Just as life is, essentially, just an accumulation of experiences, of memories, one on top of the other.
Layering. Some reaching the surface, while others trapped beneath. All of them important, all of them part of the whole, all of them you. And me. Us.