Tom shares a booth with Karl Götter
As if I stood here forever; as if I never miss the sun
In a city where you are constantly asked to move and search for space, a new home, a new studio, painting allows me to settle in, even if merely for a moment. I inhabit, I lay heavy layers of paint and the weight of the oil paint gives my flakey story a sense of history. I pretend I’m here, not worried about my visa, not searching for a home. As if I haven’t been missing the sun.
The imaginary and the real blur into each other. I reimagine scenes from home, the house of my grandma that is long gone. I reimagine intimate moments I shared with almost strangers.
Surfaces find me – in a corner of my street, piles of small sheets of brass, ask to be painted on. The brass sheets, too, want to play in this act, pretend they have never been tossed in the street – to proudly be framed on a white wall. I sacrifice my carpet, turning it into a surface for painting too. Hoping you will come in, hoping you will feel at home, hoping you will touch the painting and the painting will touch you.
