Inconsistent Memory

Inconsistent Memory

This body of work started with me looking back at my childhood after having a child of my own. I began thinking about how differently I might remember certain things now that I understand more about the adult side of life.

As a kid, you experience things from one very small perspective. You don't necessarily understand the bigger picture or what an adult is trying to teach you. You just take in what you see and create your own story around it.

A lot of these paintings come from memories of being at my grandparents' farm. Some are based on old photographs, some come directly from memory, and some are probably a combination of the two.

There are lots of happy memories in the work—the chaos of a puppy pile, being with my cousins, and the freedom of being a kid on the farm. But there are also memories that stuck with me for completely different reasons.

I remember my grandfather taking all of us grandchildren into the back of the barn to teach us how to butcher a chicken. We weren't particularly afraid. We were watching him demonstrate a skill that was a normal and necessary part of life for his generation. I remember us all being quite calm, watching the process and taking it in. I also remember the blood splattered all over the wall.

I didn't leave that experience thinking I had witnessed something terrible. I simply thought, I'd rather eat vegetables than kill an animal. And eventually, I did.

Looking back now, I'm interested in those little gaps between what happened, what we understood as children, and what we understand years later. The memories themselves haven't necessarily changed, but the way I look at them has.