My Shed

2013 
16.5" x 19.5" 
private collection
acrylic on masonite

While the paintings based on my travels to wild parts of the world tend to deal with the mystery of the unknown, and the anxiety of being a stranger in an unfamiliar landscape (in contrast to the birds portrayed, who are always at ease and oblivious to the viewer, perfectly evolved to the particular environment they live in), the birds that occupy my farm paintings have a much more totemic quality for me.

The farm is my own. I order it, plant it, map out and keep track of every element in it.  My outside world is a perfect mirror for my inside, emotional world.  As such, these paintings are, like my worlds, very tightly controlled. Very little is left to chance in terms of composition. Everything is (or more importantly, isn’t) there for a reason. As a farmer, and as a part of my personality, I can’t afford to overlook or not prepare for any eventuality.  We are all shaped by our early experiences, and they help hard wire the person we grow into.  I began birding on my own as a child of 7. The hedgerows of rural South Wales was a sanctuary I instinctively took to, and began to feel more at ease in the woods than at home.

Starlings, as a species, are remarkable birds.  They are not native to North America, yet have succeeded in colonizing most of the continent, due in no small part, to their adaptability and ability to adjust behaviors depending on the circumstance. This is also a characteristic I believe, of people who are able to overcome trauma in their lives.  Starlings are brilliant mimics. Their powers of imitation are impressive, due to an ability to pick up other species’ songs almost instantly. Listening intently and reading emotions is another quality traumatized people often share.  (In fact, most of bird watching is bird listening, and people are often surprised when a birder starts pointing out the various species singing in a dawn chorus that are all unseen).

The title is very specific in it’s intent. It is ‘My’ shed, not ‘A’ shed. The various buildings and structures that populate my farm are for me at least, powerful symbols of the human condition. My human condition. By this I mean that I am trying to map out a visual answer to some sort of inner anxiety, and the best way I can do that, is with buildings and animals. I am trying deliberately to NOT answer every question about my life in a painting, because that would be melodramatic and redundant for a viewer who may or may not want to bring their own set of questions to the painting.  I have always been good at hiding emotions, or at least, portraying a preferable emotion to any situation. The fact that I’m using something non-human to symbolize something very human (who I am as a person) is entirely in keeping with my reluctance to ‘bear all’.

‘My Shed’ is a vault. A repository of secrets and memories of a trauma still trying to be resolved.  The viewer is deliberately place on the ground, being able to see the window and it’s stains, but not look in and see what’s inside.  The all-knowing, observant Starlings on the other hand, have complete access to what’s behind the panes. They are keeping the secrets to themselves.