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Bio Statement, Brian Burris. January 11,
2007
I began painting at age sixteen (coincidentally,
that also happens to be how old I was when I
left home). Self-taught, in more ways than
one.
I lived a somewhat Bohemian existence (Jack
Kerouac meets Hunter S. Thompson, with paint,
guns and heap-bad craziness). Art (hell, life) to
me was a quasi-zen experience, just a facet of
the perihelion-approach to, and hell-bent
pursuit of, a violent satori. And I achieved it:
saw the interconnected wheel, the universe laid
out in its nameless, divine symmetry, and I
walked away.
For seven years, painting took a back seat to
the demands of the ordinary world. Call my
hiatus in the physical world an allegorical
illness: behavioral specialist, college, the
military, Sheriff's department.. These quieted
the urge to paint. Then the fire department and,
as an aside, EMT. No better job than to ride
with brave men when life itself is on the line.
Trauma cowboys, like Valkyrie-Huey gunners
flying out of the horizon; Vietnam, only in big
red trucks..
In 2001 my father died, in addition to a friend
dying, and another.. Then too, it was the
second anniversary of the warehouse fire. I
won't parade the details here, cheapen these
things, but they are part of me, and brought me
again to perihelion.
Also, within that same month, I 'worked' two
critical incidents: a gunshot wound where the
victim was shot through-and-through the neck
at 'ten-and-two' (o'clock), clipping the jugular (in
addition to the twelve other holes in him); and I
worked an MVA (car accident)—a car full of
teens where one died (we did the best we could
for him but he was inextricable from the
wreckage, a traumatic arrest).
Firefighters can see more traumas in a week
than normal folk see in a lifetime: we become
inured to it, a post-traumatic shell; but all these
incidents occurred over the course of two
weeks. Enough to spur me to paint, to
perihelion, the recurrent theme: the most critical
pass into instability and chaos, catharsis, and a
return to symmetry.
2007
I began painting at age sixteen (coincidentally,
that also happens to be how old I was when I
left home). Self-taught, in more ways than
one.
I lived a somewhat Bohemian existence (Jack
Kerouac meets Hunter S. Thompson, with paint,
guns and heap-bad craziness). Art (hell, life) to
me was a quasi-zen experience, just a facet of
the perihelion-approach to, and hell-bent
pursuit of, a violent satori. And I achieved it:
saw the interconnected wheel, the universe laid
out in its nameless, divine symmetry, and I
walked away.
For seven years, painting took a back seat to
the demands of the ordinary world. Call my
hiatus in the physical world an allegorical
illness: behavioral specialist, college, the
military, Sheriff's department.. These quieted
the urge to paint. Then the fire department and,
as an aside, EMT. No better job than to ride
with brave men when life itself is on the line.
Trauma cowboys, like Valkyrie-Huey gunners
flying out of the horizon; Vietnam, only in big
red trucks..
In 2001 my father died, in addition to a friend
dying, and another.. Then too, it was the
second anniversary of the warehouse fire. I
won't parade the details here, cheapen these
things, but they are part of me, and brought me
again to perihelion.
Also, within that same month, I 'worked' two
critical incidents: a gunshot wound where the
victim was shot through-and-through the neck
at 'ten-and-two' (o'clock), clipping the jugular (in
addition to the twelve other holes in him); and I
worked an MVA (car accident)—a car full of
teens where one died (we did the best we could
for him but he was inextricable from the
wreckage, a traumatic arrest).
Firefighters can see more traumas in a week
than normal folk see in a lifetime: we become
inured to it, a post-traumatic shell; but all these
incidents occurred over the course of two
weeks. Enough to spur me to paint, to
perihelion, the recurrent theme: the most critical
pass into instability and chaos, catharsis, and a
return to symmetry.
That’s when I came out of my exile from
creativity. I began to paint again, fervidly.
Forty paintings in three months, so many
that my style segued from abstract
expressionist-cum-action school to the
‘process abstracts’ techniques which
developed then and I practice now.
My works are metaphor for psychological
states, the semiotics of synchronicity,
Jungian mysticism, post-Freudian summum
psychology; allegory of order underlying
ordinary reality; our conscious selves and
the far more vast and sublime unconscious
anima creatures which comprise our
autonomous selves, with which our egos
struggle for control; of learned survival and
adaptive behaviors; wish fulfillment and
abandonment, betrayal, shame, and how we
play out the tableau's of our memories in
hopes of changing the past; paradox in
infinite regress, within and without.. A
forward-engineered neuroarthistory..
invocation of the primal and archetypal self,
et al.
I began showing again when I fell in with the
infamous Worcester Artist’s Group. The
following year I established a studio at The
Sprinkler Factory in Worcester. I began
showing more, culminating in the solo show,
‘No Pleasures Remain’, in The Well (a post-
industrial back hallway of a gallery, which
suited my aesthetic fine). I sold fourteen
paintings, and the show was held over in
encore.
Since then, I've been showing a half-dozen
times a year. I maintain a studio in
Worcester Mass, though not in the Sprinkler
Factory which became subject to bourgeois
usury. My work is now handled primarily
through Jan Seymour of ARTSWorcester.
All paintings are for sale unless otherwise
noted. Inquiries are welcome. To be added
to the show and updates notification list,
click the 'to contact' link below.
creativity. I began to paint again, fervidly.
Forty paintings in three months, so many
that my style segued from abstract
expressionist-cum-action school to the
‘process abstracts’ techniques which
developed then and I practice now.
My works are metaphor for psychological
states, the semiotics of synchronicity,
Jungian mysticism, post-Freudian summum
psychology; allegory of order underlying
ordinary reality; our conscious selves and
the far more vast and sublime unconscious
anima creatures which comprise our
autonomous selves, with which our egos
struggle for control; of learned survival and
adaptive behaviors; wish fulfillment and
abandonment, betrayal, shame, and how we
play out the tableau's of our memories in
hopes of changing the past; paradox in
infinite regress, within and without.. A
forward-engineered neuroarthistory..
invocation of the primal and archetypal self,
et al.
I began showing again when I fell in with the
infamous Worcester Artist’s Group. The
following year I established a studio at The
Sprinkler Factory in Worcester. I began
showing more, culminating in the solo show,
‘No Pleasures Remain’, in The Well (a post-
industrial back hallway of a gallery, which
suited my aesthetic fine). I sold fourteen
paintings, and the show was held over in
encore.
Since then, I've been showing a half-dozen
times a year. I maintain a studio in
Worcester Mass, though not in the Sprinkler
Factory which became subject to bourgeois
usury. My work is now handled primarily
through Jan Seymour of ARTSWorcester.
All paintings are for sale unless otherwise
noted. Inquiries are welcome. To be added
to the show and updates notification list,
click the 'to contact' link below.
To contact:
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Alle Tode bin ich schon gestorben
Hermann Hesse
Hermann Hesse
