General Portfolio
Gamor (2023, July)
Untitled [Painting with Gingko Stencils] (2022, Sept-Dec)
Untitled [Layered Painting] (2022, Jan)
Archetypes of the Mature Masculine (2021, Jan)
Virginia Collage (2020, Jul)
Emi (2020, May)
Napping (2020, Mar 30)
Metro Riders (2018, Apr)
NYC Subway Rider (2015)
Eastern-Western Medicine (2008, Nov)
Couple on P. Street 1 (2026, Jan)
Couple on P. Street 2 (2026, Jan)
Francis McMillan Parks (2025, May)
Their Songs and Strengths (My Grandparents) (2024, January - acrylic, 17” x 22”)
I thought I knew all the family photos, so I was surprised to only see this one in summer 2023. Grainy and overexposed in the summer of 1977, all four of my grandparents are each wearing a different color as if they were in a pop band or superhero troop. They were all in my life until just before my 30th birthday and gone when I was 46. I rendered them in brilliant colors to match how I experience them through vivid memories and sentimental objects, unexpected reactions and reoccurring thoughts. What would they think of the world today? All first-generation U.S. citizens born in 1920s Philadelphia living as their parents imagined after fleeing antisemitism in eastern Europe. Squinting in the sun they glance forward with hope against a background of what lingers unsaid. Through painting, I hear their songs and receive their strengths. Both inspiring and haunting, I recalled their virtues and their troubles to uphold their wisdoms, allay their sufferings, and sustain their legacies.
Single Issue Collages (2022 May)
Series of 4 (18” x 24” – paper, newspaper collage, acrylic, marker)
For months, I’ve been simply taking the Sunday paper from the door to the coffee table and then six days later putting it in the recycling bin without every opening it. I read much of the news digitally or see it on TV. By the time the weekend comes, I just need a break – and by the time I would open the paper – even a day later – the news was already old or I saw the stories online. In an effort to sit with the paper, I read articles to find images across the pages and sections, clipped them, and then re-arranged them. With no preconceived ideas, I just played with layering, shifting, and overlapping. I then added paint and other materials to experiment and spend time creating. Each artwork resembles the mixed-up images and ideas constantly coming in this time of what seems like impending doom – pandemic receding (sort of), Russian war against Ukraine, U.S. democracy erosions. The layers, the peeling, and the wiping away gives the sense of posters peeling off of outside walls – which indicates the ephemeral. Perhaps there is something here about recognizing the disorientation of this moment of history while attempting to take a larger perspective of what will remain and what will peel away.
The Washington Post (2022, May 1)
The Washington Post (2022, May 8)
The Washington Post (2022, May 12)
The Washington Post (2022, May 15)