midwest memory
I’ve been revisiting the crisp light and layered weirdness of my Minnesota childhood—turning memory into digital art, and quiet questions into visual form. The series blends nostalgia and critique, Rothko moods with Hopper loneliness, and a dash of Garrison Keillor storytelling filtered through a pixelated lens.
This show takes place in a fictional Midwestern museum where every label is a dramatic monologue—from the janitor who thinks he’s the curator to the Tupperware rep with strong opinions on color theory. Think Spoon River Anthology meets Parks and Rec, set in a town where the Dairy Queen doubles as a cultural hub and the museum used to be a hardware store with decent lighting.
The art’s minimal. The commentary isn’t. Welcome to Midwest Memory—where the landscapes are quiet, and the locals are anything but.
The first six pieces are part of Midwest Memory: A Chromatic Chronology Using time and color as my guide, I explore the memories of growing up in Minnesota through a series of iconic vertical figures. Some memories are salvaged from the past, others imagined from the future. Some remain unchanged, others have shifted beyond recognition. The palette moves from the dusty tones of remembered landscapes to the sharper hues of the present—and finally into the radioactive glow of what might come next.
