Amy Bowles

September 5 - October 4, 2003

Arrowhead. A crafted object that cuts through the air, slicing open and dividing space with force and unwavering direction. The subtlety of nature reconfigured. These paintings are a reinterpretation of an edited selection of ink and gouache drawings. Through the reinterpretation process I embrace pure feeling and allow the flow of sub-conscious thought to show itself through line and form, while playing with the harmony and discord of colour combinations. Focusing on the placement and tensions between tone and mutable forms, always being aware of the delicacies of space.

Your raven wig sits upon your oily rig
You stagger with your dagger pointing forward
And the lightening bolt darts
All the tiny pebbles shine like molten devils
And the sea it pulls like triggers while the sand it reconfigures
Up goes the sword pointing towards the jagged silver fracture
When all the power surges the neighbor hooded churches crumble to the ground
With all the tortured sounds that resonate and emanate
When arrowhead meets arrowhead meets arrowhead

Amy Bowles