From four piece Beach, out the Bay, into the Gulf, and necessarily back to us via Marsh, the artist achingly limns the ruination of our heritage by the 2010 BP Oil Spill. To term it simply a “spill” is to imagine that it can be wiped clean, that all our sea creatures, estuaries and the Gulf itself, have recovered or can recover.
This is not so. It is stain, indelible, unnatural, permanent.
In obvious emotional progression arises Heart, its quilted arteries struggling, uselessly, to pump out our pain. But the central piece, the heart of Heart, is clearly lost. And, we, of every color, nearly identical, are all of a piece, in Hands.
By now, our complicity must, by needs, seep into our Conscience. Try, as we humanly do, to compartmentalize such loss and responsibility. Perhaps it can be assimilated into our collective conscience. Yet, see the stain, still there, rendering us diminished, colorless, stark.
Consider Society. Stained and sick.
Why? Ungodly, unnecessary stacks of Money.
Statement Credit: Ange Ingram