Impermanence, by definition, implies “not continuing or enduring without fundamental or marked change;” unstable, not lasting. I realize that my fascination with structures slated for demolition is more than just sentiment. It is about impermanence. It is about change, getting older, being worn out, no longer being needed, getting cast aside for the sake of progress. The Wheland Foundry and the Longholm Estate are now gone and Standard Coosa Thatcher Yarn Mill and US Pipe are presently being demolished. I also love to preserve historical sites that have been spared demolition, saved from demise.
Metaphorically this could translate into my own fears about immortality. Spiritually speaking, I do think that we all leave a trace, a shadow on the world we touch. I wish to cast a shadow on the structure, to leave a trace of my connection with it thereby ensuring that it will, in turn, leave a shadow upon the space that it occupied. All structures have a history. People’s lives were touched by the “place”. There was some kind of emotional connection with it regarding feeling of “home” or “workplace”. Just as each structure had threads of history holding it together, each of my paintings records varied textures woven through it. The structure may now be in pieces, ripped apart by progress, but the shadow it cast will remain permanently intact. I call this nostalgic architecture.
There is a security in knowing one’s place in time.