Committed to a celebration of and conversation around art (pop & fine), we think it makes sense that we’d showcase original works by contemporary artists. As such we’ve started profiling a recent exhibition or series by artists in our community. This Tuesday’s artist Joshua Cave, a BX/BKLYN-based painter, sculptor, and installation artist. You’ll find commentary and personal reflection on his work in the following post. If you’ve something to show the editorial staff and the rest of the Curator readership, email firstname.lastname@example.org.
Things is Joshua Cave’s most recent series of paintings.
Born Januray 21st, 1986 in Worcester, MA, Joshua Cave was nurtured under the bias optimism of his mother. Through his childhood and adolescence she continued to praise every mark of ink, pencil or paint he made, despite his frustration with nearly all results. Nevertheless, he went on to receive a Bachelor of Fine Arts, and subsequently move to New York City to pursue painting, sculpture and installation. He continues to work, and live with his wife and landlord’s cat in New York City.
A statement about the artist’s practice from a journal entry:
I keep thinking I have stumbled upon some realization that will help me to resolve my current paintings, but each realization applied only confronts me with a new series of possible decisions, and the paintings remain unresolved. There is no narrative I adhere to, which leaves the work open to a myriad of directions none of which promise an end. I keep asking myself, what am I attempting? And the only answer I can muster at this time is to say that I am pursuing rest without predetermining my process of aesthetic. I want the paintings to mature to a point of rest, but while they grow uncomfortable they never become comfortable. Conflictingly, I am of the belief that comfortable is not a worthy end, and often serves to weaken the work. Nevertheless, I, like many, find comfort in a discernible form of rest— that, to break free from it is to attempt to spend the night on a concrete slab. I am not comfortable on that slab, and I imagine few are. Yet, I believe finding comfort there is necessary to communicate with an aspect of our humanity less favored by our culture, but nonetheless true.