The Intent of the Sovereign work

Historically, the canvas is viewed as a window—a passive transparency designed to lure the eye into a curated, two-dimensional illusion. Maintaining the two-dimensional plane in our entangled world is now an act of denial of the condition that we live in. My work seeks to remove the pane of glass and replace it with the weight of the object. I do not seek to provide a way out; I aim to give the truth of what is before you or I.

I treat the canvas as a protagonist. My process begins with a primary reduction: a deliberate stripping of the decorative and the performative. Then a secondary reduction where the canvas is forced and compelled to surrender its two-dimensional surface in order to liberate and push the work into the Z- axis. The resultant works contain tension(s) that are a physical necessity, not creations of a deceptive images.

I do away with the "painterly" brushstroke, which I view in most cases is nothing short of a performative gesture. I reject the decorative and its gestures in favour of archaeological findings. My process is an act of excavation: I scrape, I remove paint, I remove the brushstrokes. Nothing new but I see the act of doing so as way to strip away the “veneer” or the “facade” so that I can uncover an image that lies underneath. Whether working from prescriptive lines or a raw canvas, I am unearthing a reality that refuses to be dishonest and remains stubborn.

If personified, my work does not exist to be observed from a distance; it exists as a physical intervention. In a world that seems to be blind of its own scars, the work acts as a visual anchor—a deliberate, sovereign stop that occupies the same physical space as you and I. The work does not invite you into my world; instead, it demands that you return to your own without all of the imported veneers as it enters into your world.

Whether the painting succeeds or fails by ad hoc standards is irrelevant. My works demand acceptance regardless of the metrics used to judge them. They seek not to be judged. The work speaks through flaws; their perfection, much like our own, lies deeply in imperfections.

Once the primary and secondary reductions are completed, the painting takes on its own life. It stands beyond the noise or the silence of judgment. It becomes sovereign and able to provide a halted moment. Through the exercise of its sovereignty a companion appears before you.

The works move out of their frames and into your world to keep you company. It halts not to offer a new illusion, but to provide a steadfast witness, a confidant to the truth of being.