Given at sunrise, under their window or at their door; partially made up of air.
In 2020, through forces beyond any of our control, I found myself alone in a small apartment for an extended period of time. The Aubades were a return to painting after many years of working three dimensionally; At first motivated by the circumstances and limitations of time, space, and resources.
As the days passed, the Aubades grew in volume. One quickly turned to 37, then to 55, and eventually I lost count as my apartment became an installation of leaning floating colors.
This investigation into the colors as harmonizing instruments, is a song sung in the morning, according to the movement of the sun, the colors are projected on the walls, shadows behind the painting, creating a multifaceted piece in constant flux.
these songs of 2020, the sound of a phone, that rings rings, and no one answers, are the aubades to human lacking. In an abstract form, a silent cacophony.