Printmaking seems to rest on a kind of ordering, a play between moments of fixed repeatability, and entropic variation.
What happens to the print when the matrix, that stable pattern of potential reiteration, disappears, recedes from intention, not yet caught by the paper’s touch? What happens when the matrix is understood as a fugitive substrate, a structure which can just as easily appear as it can disappear. I am curious about this tenuous middle space in which images only half register.
Around this time I had started wondering about the possibility of making a suite of prints that were actually not prints at all, but were rather print's "vanishing point".
I found myself more interested in the peripheral, general atmospheric conditions that surround the work – the space that, in a sense, was both before and after the work – the “weather” of print. This notion of weather implicates a kind of contingency, an openness to the mutual exchange of variable conditions. The prints in the “Sfumato” series investigate this open concept of the matrix in using dust as a printing element. Dust, as a kind of matrix with fugitive parameters. I was curious about how these “dust prints” might engage this idea of weather. If weather is a condition of air, sensed yet peripheral, unseen, what becomes of weather’s play of contingency when it is fixed and laminated between the paper’s tissue? What becomes of weather when the air is pressed out?