We are surrounded by impermanence. Fleeting moments, shifting perspectives, and change all illuminate
the fact that nothing in life is permanent. Daily and seasonal transitions, birth, growth and death all
remind us of the inevitability of impermanence. Even the most seemingly eternal landscapes will
eventually succumb to time. We are left with memories. Abstract and residual, our memories are a means
by which we can honor the past and recall experiences, relationships and parts of our histories.
Oddly enough, painting feels permanent. It is a means of documentation that can be quick or slow, but
one that seems durable and in some ways, timeless. An image left on a painted surface is the tangible
result of working with a flexible and changing medium until the arrival of an end. It is a path that allows
for a memory to be made into something more concrete than an idea.
Towers, walls, and pyramids of ice cubes in various states of melting are, of course, impermanent. These
ice structures were designed to fail and simply melt, returning to a prior state. Cast against dark
backgrounds and photographed in high contrast light, there is something beautiful about these ice
structures. The images feel dramatic and historical. There is also an element of absurdity in the act of
committing these images to painting; ice is simply a temporary state of water that is destined to not to
last, but a painting of ice seems like it could.