I think of the Chroma Sonorous series as musical notations and phrases–or found sounds– in paint. Together, they create an entire composition but single pieces may also stand alone. They create relationships and conversations together; a sonorous movement through space.

These small works were born out of the pandemic. I was locked out of my studio, working in a small room in my apartment, and was feeling overly digitized so I sought out the physicality of paint. These paintings are driven by color contained in formal qualities that are both reductive and expressive. Color produces associations, memories, emotions, tastes, and other multi-sensory and perceptual phenomena. 

The wood is as much of color and material as the gouache paint. Cut from 1 x 6 untreated pine boards sourced from the lumberyard, the humble beginnings of the wood act not simply as a substrate in which to paint on, but become another way to explore mark making. 

When painting I decide on two or three colors to work with at a time and work across multiple pieces simultaneously so I can build rhythm and notation through repetition. While I’m painting I’m trying to balance between controlling the process and being receptive to what is happening in the moment without being carried over into other possibilities. It’s a process of being pulled and pulling back. 

I discovered many years ago that my painting process is very similar to how I make my sound work. I choose limited palettes and limited software instruments, and working in a durational mode I’m exploring how far I can pull and be pulled into a sensory experience. I think of both practices as the creation of an immersive environment. In the case of the Chroma Sonorous series, they are very tiny environments that I’ve created over 100 times so far.

As a sound artist and painter, my work is based on recording patterns and structures of sound environments by employing repetition through gesture and movement. My paintings loosely reference sheet music with the horizontal, left to right application of paint, the strings of an instrument, or the Digital Audio Workstation interface I use to create my sound work, but perhaps more importantly, the abstract composition is a surface in which to explore the way sound, interpreted through my body and hand, springs forth, enacts, and decays over time. The structure of a song or soundscape is built in a similar way to the visual language of abstract mark-making. While I’m working, I’m carefully considering color choices and brush sizes and I’m focusing my attention to a song or ambient sounds around me. I listen, concentrate, catch on to a rhythm or melody and try to stay on tempo with each mark. At times, I listen to a single recording in one session to really immerse myself in the sound.