Considering freedom is a value Americans unanimously embrace, Texans especially, it interests me that the word takes on varied meanings depending on the philosophy of the person defining it. Some define freedom as the ability to make choices based upon the interest of an individual, others measure freedom in terms of collective interest. Freedom may be understood as the extent to which one is able to operate independently of others, or the extent to which one’s reliance on others is embraced. The concept of freedom may be associated with politics or with the divine. In short, freedom is a vague word. Until its meaning is questioned and explored, freedom remains a foggy ideal, not something we can orient ourselves toward either separately or together. I created the work for Remembering Freedom in order to examine my own perception of this elusive concept, and I invite viewers to do the same. Some questions that drove my process are, What is freedom? What is its opposite? Who is free? Why is freedom valuable? What does my definition of freedom assume about my relationship to others? Can freedom exist in any moment or is it a perpetual ideal?
acrylic and ink on canvas
49 x 61 inches
Three shapes represent my mom, sister, and myself, whose relationship to one another is muddled by shared trauma yet fortified with mutual love. Concentric circles swirl around three core subjects and overlap with one another, simultaneously emphasizing individuality and inevitable connection. Amidst a backdrop of chaos, resonance and commonality can still be found.
prickly pear tuna, compressed charcoal, graphite
50.5 x 154 inches
Native whitetail deer have had to compete with invasive axis for food and range since the latter’s introduction to Texas in 1932. Despite the whitetail being profoundly disrupted by the axis, the imported deer are too prolific to eradicate and have become integral to the local hunting economy. Native deer suffer as the imbalance in species persists, posing the difficult question of how to best preserve the wellbeing of whitetail, axis, and ranchers alike. The dilemma bears similarity to colonization and immigration, thus providing a lens to examine these issues and explore questions or perspectives that may not have otherwise been considered.
Displacement, 2021
detail
ink on rice paper
24 x 18 inches each
The disjointed orientation of Dissolve alludes to the ironic isolation one can feel despite deepening into relationship with others. When exploring relationships, whether romantic, platonic, or in between, I find it difficult to maintain a stable sense of self. My self worth ebbs and flows with the happiness of my friends and partners, indicative of my stubborn codependency. I’ve come to terms with the reality that my worthiness must be internally sourced if I hope to connect deeply with the people in my life.
vine charcoal
28 x 52 inches
An image of a bird in flight tends to represent freedom, while a single feather lacks this liberated connotation. When seperated from the bird’s body, the feather loses its ability to fly. Similarly, when I become disconnected from the social and environmental context which I am a part of, my potential to flourish is stunted. Though a single feather can’t fly alone, its unique pattern, shape, and color hint at the irreplaceable role it plays for the bird as a whole.
conte pencil on ‘ulu leaf, horse jawbone, cow skull
33 x 64 inches
The ‘Ulu (breadfruit) tree is a New Guinean member of the mulberry family, making it both familiar and foreign as Texas mulberry fruit is a main component of Letting Go (2019). These leaves, gathered in Hawai’i, evoke the Hawai’ian legend of Kū, who buried himself when famine struck his village so that he would sprout up as a breadfruit tree to feed his starving community. Like Kū, I have allowed past versions of myself to die in order for new versions to be born. In repeating this process, the boundary of self becomes thinner, revealing the freedom that lies beyond separateness.
detail
Fragmented Horse, 2021
Installation view
ink on paper
36 x 24 inches
One of many holy places in West Texas, Redford clears the channel between myself and the force that animates all life. I am perpetually waiting to return there.
ink on paper
24 x 18 inches each
Fragmented Horse elicits a parable shared in Buddhist, Hindu, and Jain scriptures in which several blind men are asked to describe an elephant based on their sense of touch. Each man gives a description but none are able to explain what a whole elephant looks like, because they each felt only a fragment of the animal’s body. They fight over who is correct until the teacher points out that their limited views have disabled each of them from knowing the actual truth. I reflect upon this story as a reminder that clinging to views too tightly can obscure the truth and prevent me from experiencing the freedom that truth offers.
vine charcoal
36 x 108 inches
The history and diversity encapsulated in my hometown of Brackettville is notably complex. It is a border community of immigrants and their ancestors, ranchers who have stewarded land for generations by the help of undocumented laborers, and indigenous peoples whose ancestors preserved and respected the land long before the first fence post went in the ground. There are descendants of freed slaves who allied with Indians to defend themselves against U.S. military attacks, and many veterans from an array of different backgrounds. My purpose in illustrating the wide array of beings who inhabit this area is to emphasize our connection to each other, and acknowledge history’s influence on the way we see and relate to one another today.
detail
conte pencil on paper
36 x 24 inches
One of many holy places in West Texas, Redford clears the channel between myself and the force that animates all life. I am perpetually waiting to return there.
charcoal and soil on paper
60×60 inches
Earth Witness, translated from the Sanskrit word bhumisparsha, references a meditation posture taken by Shakyamuni Buddha in the moments leading up to his enlightenment. Touching the right fingertips to the ground, he summoned Mother Earth to give him strength and bear witness to his liberation from infinite cycles of suffering. The path toward liberation (complete freedom from attachments and delusions) requires taking inventory of the suffering that persists in all areas of life, from cyclical abuse in families to oppressive and environmentally destructive economic systems. As I navigate these harsh realities and others I’ve experienced in life, I remember the immeasurable wisdom of nature for guidance and strength. The books reinforce themes of confronting suffering, aligning with nature, and seeking ultimate freedom.
ink and coffee on canvas
42 x 32 inches
Roadrunner I, 2021
Roadrunner II, 2021
Planted Mountain Laurel, 2019
mountain laurel seed, soil
19 x 13 inches
Roadrunner III, 2021
Roadrunner IV, 2021
charcoal and dyeball fungus on paper mounted to canvas
11×14
Roadrunner I, 2021
Roadrunner II, 2021
Roadrunner III, 2021
Roadrunner IV, 2021
detail
graphite on raw canvas
60 x 216 inches
I grew up calling them buzzards, though these birds are technically called turkey vultures. This piece is a dedication to these animals, since they’re some of the most under appreciated creatures in our ecosystem. Written off as ugly, unclean, or menacing, they’re deeply misunderstood. We could not survive without the help of this singular species in preventing the spread of disease. Beyond their practical value, vultures have a humble presence that teaches resourcefulness and humility. They recycle energy from the dying and extend it as their own, living without taking life. I’ve always thought they had a monastic quality, and sometimes when roosting they look like mountain ascetics meditating. I want to be more like the vulture who takes only what is needed, creates life where there is death, and purifies what is toxic.
Gage Brown Fine Art 