Adam Crowley

Clouds pass through the sky. Countless lives begin, and countless end. Light from the sun passes through a leaf outside a window in early summer. Mountains grow and fall. Space hums.

Painting from photographs allows one to study in depth a moment in a specific place in time. Taking weeks to analyze and render this fleeting moment, one in effect extends that moment both historically and culturally. Conversely, painting from observation things that have been dug up from the ground or found in the environment allows one to paint a specific part of history; the piece of stone that has taken millions of years to form, or the branch of a tree that has been growing, unnoticed, for decades. I then manipulate these objects to actively play a part in their specific timelines and to hint at other timelines that have been previously overlooked.

It all comes down to knowing a thing better. An image, a moment in time, the objects in a still life. It’s about studying these things day after day to sort of squeeze their knowledge from them. To extract their philosophy. And as each series grows, the interaction between the paintings in each series as well as between the series will be the brickwork of the overall goal. That goal is to mine what observance is and how malleable meaning can be when imposed on a work of art or an image.

At the same time, transcribing the natural world onto a substrate gives meaning to the inherently indifferent. To impose meaning, to give parameters to the limitless is absurd. To attempt to put it in an understandable frame is intrinsically a human drive, one that is apart from nature. The old frames are broken, and they were artificial anyhow. To frame the trajectory of time is impossible.

My recent paintings have been studies in opposing modes of thought. I take photographs of my immediate surroundings, or build still lives from humble objects I find around my neighborhood. By examining these objects, or this moment in time, shifts in affection occur. Stones can be seen as violent, as geological notation, as building block. Invasive plants can be very beautiful and sweet smelling while also destroying their surrounding environment. Painting is a record of time, decisions and thought processes. Spending time allows for various interpretations of the thing that is being painted to coalesce. Things can inhabit both beauty and destruction, and the ebbs and flows of life, history, and the world can be represented by a Midwestern backyard.