Kate Shepherd
Statement, Explanation
May 2020

Hiram Butler and I planned to open a show on May 2. In mid-March, we didn't even have to say it out loud--health restrictions would make it impossible for me not only to work in my studio but also to travel to Houston. I decided to go ahead anyway and make a wall painting from afar that could be seen from the outer windows--something kind of beautiful but spooky. It was a perfect challenge because I knew where the viewer would be.

Josh Pazda was kind enough to take it on by following my measurements. Using a model of the gallery in Sketch Up, I imagined the whole room as a unit--like a sculpture or an outgrowth that would create a myth. Surrogate paintings would rise up from the mud-colored floor--an inescapable presence. I love brown and rarely get to use it.

The gallery space resembled a plain proscenium stage for some kind of drama inside the closed doors. I've done many wall paintings, but this time, having three walls to work with gave me the chance to shift architecture. I like things that are seemingly simple but multiply in some way--as do my enamel paintings that bounce back an image of the surrounding room. So I knew there could be something funny going on.

The floor tiles are inherently a natural perspectival diagram which I could extend in order to morph the space. With a trapezoid the back wall could appear deeper than it is. Triangles on the flanking walls would make the floor seem to go sideways. The red rectangles resting on the new floor were like paintings I would have made for the show that couldn't happen. They looked ready to be hung.  

I wanted the original rendering to function only from the vantage point at the left window. By moving my computer "feet" around on the porch, the construction stretched out of proportion. Through the right-most windows, the invented logic fell apart; order became disorder.

I felt that this was the right way to go during the pandemic. One person’s view point upturns when imagining another's. Here I am in New York City, on the 16th floor, sirens pass and I am jolted by the thought of someone being in distress. But for the most part, isolation gives me the chance to focus on what’s before me. This installation far away from me is a reflection of multiple and layered experiences.

Some notes on color:

The floor was a given: mud, dirt, poop, clay.
My intuition was that the surrogate paintings would be red. I thought of blood, the liquid of life under the skin, our shared vitality. And also a burst of life.