“Theatre takes place all the time, wherever one is. And art simply facilitates persuading one this is the case.” — John Cage
As a kid, I used to believe people were living inside my television set. How else could Mr. Dress-up appear through the tube? If only I was allowed to break the glass barrier between Sesame Street and my living room, I could have enjoyed mouthfuls of cookies. Despite my fantasy of jumping through a “looking glass,” I soon learned that was not the reality. My television was old, and it began to show some glitch-like symptoms, automatically changing channels and distorting colours and figures.
Technological innovations simultaneously create better understandings of our surroundings while impairing the distinction between illusion and reality. With social interactions increasingly lived through a screen visually crisp and informative as real-time and space; as history progresses, the ratio of implicit knowledge on the evolution/flaws/limits of technology decreases.
My process of eliminating the difference between a window and screen with glitches through painting began in 2009. Often playing with paint’s loose, chromatic, and photo realistic qualities versus rigid and realistic impressions of thinly collaged digital photography, my works reveal similarities and contrasts between the real and abstract: questioning the physicality of our realities—the value of time as it shapes our understanding of the space we live.
Above is a time-lapse example of how I often begin my painting process. In this video I reveal how the paper of my photo-transfer prints was removed for the painting 03h53m from the GMT+2 series. In this particular series the paintings are composed of photos I have taken on my iPhone while living in the city of Venice which had been directly submitted to the misinterpretation of a hacked low-ink laser printer—a ludic process I found with print technology where the machine extension of human hands reaches its breaking point and seems to imitate human sensitivity: glitch printed results which recall watercolours, pencil drawings, and ancient frescos.
The laser printed images themselves, depict everyday life scenarios with ordinary views, drawing focus to the distortion and alienation implicated by the machine produced glitch. From which point, after scanning, reflecting, and re-printing the enlarged image piece by piece, I have transferred the ink of the reprints with gesso onto canvas—a process which requires 48 hours of drying time before I am able to remove the paper on which the reprints were printed onto. The results are intentionally imperfect photo-transferred surface which I then paint over using brushes, oil sticks, rags, squeegees, and my hands. Empirically reproducing the space physically lived.