From a distance, these paintings resemble blurred
airbrushed surfaces, electronic prints, or even spon-
taneous pours of paint; only at a closer look can
one perceive that they are handmade. The surfaces
are covered with small marks mechanized through
obsessive repetition and confinement of the hand.
Existing in a frustrated relationship to expression,
these pixilated gestures also allude to a numerical
language common to computer technology as well
as weaving and Islamic tiling.

I make and replicate my own paintings, presenting
them as diptychs or triptychs. These duplicate paint-
ings inevitably vary, slightly or obviously, whether in
size, color, or method of production. Recently, I have
been making and copying poured and brushed
paintings. The poured and gestural paintings provide
a literal and obvious counterpoint to my laborious
and diagrammatic ones. The pours and strokes refer
to the Expressionist material accident, and ultimately
to nature, spontaneity, and authenticity. These
“accidents” yield a surprising array of optical com-
plexity. Making the Copies, on the other hand, is a
process of dissecting the constituents of such com-
plexity, by means of a measured schematic.

Whether as twins or foils, all of these duplicate
paintings present both an interruption and an invi-
tation to the act of looking at each painting. Though
twinning emphasizes the contrivance of looking at a
painting, the act of comparison also compels one to
look more intensely. Each painting’s contingency
disrupts the taken-for-granted isolation of a paint-
ing, questioning the idea of a painting’s truth as
situated within its frame. The dry monotony of
repetition yields the possibility of abundance and
complexity.