TimeSCAPES began in 2008 and continues today. For each new location, I find myself in I am recording a painting about to happen through sound and image - seeing through the camera lens the movement of painting with light and time passages. The more I am arrested by the site and the deeper the impression, the more I am able to translate this into the video editing and then into the painting process. The goal is to create seamless video loops that will be played non-stop either by themselves or in tandem with several others in the studio.

I use painting as a way to get in touch with a higher power. Images occur to me and I create them. Everything depends on the mood I am in when I go to paint, and what I am feeling. It all revolves around what image is attracting me and what will fulfill me. Consequently the paintings are not always exactly the same as the last ones in terms of abstraction, expressionism, impressionism or realism. I trust the paint and my hand to do the job. The brain seems to have little to do with it. Afterwards I learn from what is on the canvas.

I am interested in dripping, pouring, splashing and moving paint. I work intuitively, using a variety of common household ingredients like beeswax, bacon grease, borax and castoff house paint. My imagery comes from nature, since that’s where I feel the greatest connection and concern. These paintings were inspired by living and walking around the island of Alameda.

Similar to the way that neuro-electrical impulses move unseen in the world, there are phenomenon that exist beyond the normal organization of perception. The confluence of physics, (gravity) and metaphysics, (felt information) together reveal how luminous substance manifests in these paintings. Sensation is brought into form through decisions that occur both cognitively and outside the normal realm of the senses. The spatial layout presents a fracture between orientations; neither forward or back, but perhaps to the side, more of a peripheral view. Divulging not landscape, not figure, but a space less cohesive, marks are reminiscent of things other than they are.

Amy created charcoal drawings of her possessions, including her grandmother’s cast iron doorstop, underwear, jewelry, and other inanimate objects that have meaning for her, revealing a whimsical nostalgia for sacred and personal artifacts. Uprooted from the context of her life, the artifacts are drawn on large white pieces of paper, floating and swimming, disregarding the natural laws of gravity. She draws with the softest charcoal possible so that the dust falls in shadows, enhancing the objects from her personal mythology and that of her heritage. The result is a surreal narrative, where scale and context are less relevant than emotive charge, and the everyday, inanimate object is poetry. Interested in the difference between perception and reality, and her work is rooted in the ways in which the scale of objects and their meanings may be opposite and the same—at the same time; the unity of opposites, the co-existence of being and non-being. Amy passed away on January 13, 2018.