Works this week.

At the beginning of last week, musician and artist Oliver Tree died suddenly in a helicopter crash. Now, usually celebrity deaths don’t really affect me, it’s easy for me to separate myself from someone I never even met. However, this time, I found it effecting me heavily. It felt like a harsh reminder how fragile it all is, and how finite our time is. While I wouldn’t say I was an Oliver Tree fan, I respected his artistry and recognized how much he poured into his work. And the real kicker, he was only 32. Same age as me. And if I ever needed a reminder how devastatingly young 32 actually is, this was the moment.

I didn’t find myself grieving Oliver Tree exactly, though that was definitely part of it, I was more grieving his art that he’ll never create. He was so talented and clearly loved every part of being an artist, and gave everything he did his all. There was so much left to give, to make, to ponder over. I thought about all the art I’ve ever wanted to make, or what I could be making 10, 20, 30 years from now. If I died at the age of 32, would I be ok with everything I put back into the world? (I mean, I’d be dead so it’s not like I’d have a choice.)

That question followed me into the studio, and I found myself making Dirge.

Dirge 06.20.26.16.40

A dirge is a slow, mournful song or poem expressing grief or lamentation, traditionally performed at funerals or memorial rites.

I’ve been thinking about all the rituals we do when someone passes, the layers of grief that seem illogical at times, even in our digital age when people who we didn’t even know pass.

Initially when I was starting this painting a couple of weeks ago, I was thinking a lot about returning. I had just seen the MFA show Framing Nature: Gardens and Imagination, and was heavily inspired by what these gardens represented. I kept thinking about going back to something. Back to nature maybe, back to myself, back to the natural. In this day and age where everyone is fatigued with the constant inundation of technology and AI brain rot, I find myself exploring what it means to return. What does it mean to go back?

This work turned into a combination of returning to myself while thinking about life’s natural limitations. It is both sad but freeing. Layered but honest. Fragmented but connected. I think the act of returning is always remembering that it’s all finite.

Other Works this Week

With the heaviness of Dirge, I also wanted to balance my studio time with some happier, freeing expression. Loose drawings, fun gestures, beauty and dance in the darkness. Grief and darkness can only happen when you genuinely love and care, and the beauty in that is always worth acknowledging.