Folded Landscapes II


These landscapes are put away in the back pocket, and later discovered as creased, criss-crossed with others, and conflated. Iterated on clear and mirrored surfaces, they beckon the viewer into the illusory nature of landscape memory.

This practice grows from an inquiry begun in 2013 around orogenic suturing (one geological phenomenon of mountain making) and thought production, and the ways in which our psychology, from a nondual perspective, operates more like geological forces than we realize now.

This second part of the series are created mainly from coastal California through the Great Western Interior Seaway, the ancient seabed now home to the American West.

A note on process…

The secret to the Motown sound is the echo chamber. The soul clap’s reverb sound is the result of recording in the basement, wiring it to a vaulted ceiling in the roof, and re-recording it.

I record landscapes and send them into variegated shapes on interior architectural spaces. This is much in the same way that we can record a memory in a photograph, put it into our back pocket, and pull it out 20 years later, and it appears completely different, or, record a clap, send it to the ceiling through a speaker, and re-record its richness and all the nostalgia that it took along with itself through copper wires. The net experience is akin to episodic memory.

I hope that these works question the absolute and the relative moment- what is projecting, and what is being projected. Beyond this didactic narrative, a moment of suspension is what peeks my highest curiosities. At once flat and holographic, these particular works consult mountains as three-dimensional chunks and ancient oceans as potential immersions.