This is not a landscape—it is aftermath. The bones don’t belong to a creature; they are the memory of movement fossilized mid-gesture. The central mass twists and folds like a psyche under pressure, calcified by time and violence. What we see is not death, but the sediment of action.
Below, a toy-like figure stands against a blood-dark ground—less a witness than a remnant. Its proportions are grotesquely playful, a child’s rendering of a god, casting a shadow far more human than itself. Around it, space fractures into symbols: spiral, claw, wound, cave. This is an arena, but no one is performing. The event has already passed.
Lovveram functions not as a picture, but as an excavation site. The brush marks dig, peel, and press—the painter not illustrating a scene, but enacting a retrieval. What emerges is not clarity, but residue: ambiguous, mythic, unresolvable.
1982
Oil on Panel
16.125" x 23"
Collection of the artist
Prints available upon request
Oil on Panel
16.125" x 23"
Collection of the artist
Prints available upon request
