The plastic sheets had sat in a wooden wine box in the closet for years. It wasn’t until I began to compile a record of my work that I dug them out. They were from the early nineties. To exhibit your art anywhere back then, you submitted your slides. What I needed were jpegs for the website. After some research online, I found a company, ScanCafe, that would convert them into something usable. A few weeks after I mailed the originals off, I received their digital incarnations. Sadly, they feature paintings that have long since disappeared. One series in particular, I thought, deserved another look:
I called them “Windows” (hadn’t I heard that Microsoft was already using the title?) and numbered them one through eleven. Some are better than others, of course. I found a photograph where I had posed with a few. My pride was apparent. A gallery career seemed within easy reach (almost everything does when you’re in your twenties). So what do they say to me now? They were meant to portray the intellectual constructs through which we perceive the world. Maybe I should try looking at mine through different windows.