This is reflected in the design in a variety of ways. From the color palette being inspired by raw materials to the acoustic ceiling panel positioning, building systems imagery is woven throughout the entire office. The logo itself is a system of random blocks inserted into an empty steel frame spelling out NEXT. Without the wooden blocks, the frame would be hollow and cold.
]]> In this oil painting I borrowed colors from Van Gogh’s Irises in order to create my own version of a bed of flowers. The paint has been applied, pushed, pulled, smeared, removed, and applied again to destroy any visual resemblance to the work’s namesake, and yet a notion of the natural world still pervades it. Through a combination of happenstance and deliberate action, passages appear on the surface of the work that seem to flow into each other or float, but by contrast there are also places in which the paint appears to have been cut up or gouged into the piece. The dance of movements required to create this work are as much a part of Garden as the paint itself. Additionally, an overarching factor in the making of the piece was an attempt to capture the creative spirit which I believe underlies all works of art, and in this case is captured through the lens of an appreciation of the natural world.]]> This book’s concept arose from my album “Honeymoon,” which is about the death of a former partner after a short but strong relationship — planting the concept of death within the idea of impermanence. I use found plant materials, including flower petals and roots, to analogize the quick bloom and death of springtime flowers with the loss of the relationship. I include lyrics from the album on the pages of the book — both handwritten and transferred — to blend these stories.
The flowers that fill the pages are plucked from the ground, swept from the dirt, ridded of impurities, soaked in soda ash, swirled in pulp, and pressed into permanence — all in the effort to preserve a fraction of their life amid their death. Everything in this book is made of things that have died, from the plants in the pages to the content on top of them, drawing attention to life through the lens of impermanence. There will always be things that disappear, that die, that move on from us, that we are supposed to move on from. But this work finds power in preservation in an admission of what must be laid to rest.
You can listen to the album "Honeymoon" at this link: https://ffm.to/honeymoon-jacobrichey]]> The death of my grandparents acted as a catalyst for my interest in researching their lives and discovering more about my family’s countries of origin. Through this piece, I am able to feel connected to lost family members in a way that doesn’t feel sorrowful, but instead celebratory of their lives and the collage that makes me. In this work, ethnically significant icons are collaged and layered together, in the way that each person’s identity is created through generations of combining different cultures and traditions. The icons are layered with such an intensity that it is impossible to focus solely on the edelweiss and ignore the colorful background that tells so many more details about the complexity of my family history. The use of vivid colors brings joy and life back to the family history that can be lost over time if children and grandchildren don’t pay attention to the many stories their older relatives have to share.]]> Magpie, thief of shiny objects, brings me treasures from an old life to comfort me: little pearls, a door key, a single forgotten sock. He drops these crumbs of yearning around me as I crouch, vulnerable. My pose is more open in Winter Birds, a piece inspired by my love for the small plain birds that remain behind when their brighter cousins fly south. Their perseverance is echoed by the depiction of wild persimmons, which ripen after the first frost. Together they represent spots of simple beauty in the cold times.
Bird Stories is intended to be dreamlike. My nakedness and the lack of a defined background deny any specificity as to time and place. These are feelings, not memories.
Throughout the work I pay special attention to my body, especially the colors in my skin. I build form through repetitive hatched marks and layers of overlapping. The relationship between myself and the birds is central. My body is a site of attention, touch, and renewal, while the birds (my feelings embodied) come to me as a force outside of myself; they are the grief and the hope that have come to visit.]]>