I’ve been thinking a lot about time lately, how the nature of our perception dictates that the ribbon of time is viewed by us only in one direction, and how we are incapable of seeing ahead of us on the trajectory, only to the past. In unusual circumstances, time slows down to an eternity.
Several years ago, I took a lead fall rock climbing. The fraction of a second that it took me to fall 15 feet attached to a climbing rope expanded into hours. I felt like I was falling forever. In this forever, I had time to observe the late afternoon March sky, to smell the scent of sage in the air, and to hear the sounds arising from below me. This expanded time feels like something stolen, like something we are not supposed to possess. “Stealing Time” recreates these stolen moments on paper
I've been a bigger thief than stealing time. I have relentlessly trolled my friends Facebook pages for images that I could paint, and accosted young women on the street to ask if I could capture their time in a photograph. I've stolen portraits of medical students, waitresses, and rock climbers. Most of all I have stolen time from my niece Kirstie, who is an oil and gas engineer working in Norway who has patiently allowed me to photograph her and paint her over the last 10 years.
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