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A Medieval Scofflaw

Spindlepunk breaks up the usual structure of things in our everyday lives. I destroy perfectly good (albeit knock-off, composite or, otherwise, abandoned) chairs and tables and dressers. In doing so, I take my place in the long history of scavengers making sense out of our junk. I am a medieval scofflaw stripping marble from the Coliseum.

Why could art created from broken artifacts be compelling? I make this point in my artist’s statement: Using broken shards allows an anthropomorphic whisper to keen behind my work. Hmmm.

The work is personal and highly expressive. I consider myself, first and foremost, a painter. I construct personal structures as a challenge to my ability as a painter. Here’s the arrogance: I believe that no matter what I build, whether ugly, disturbing or simplistic, I can redeem those faults with paint. Paint is a roar not a whisper.

Do I attempt to make broad social statements similar to Ai Wei Wei’s public gestures or invoke dirty little secrets like Banksy?


My work is personal, but hoping to somehow touch something universal. The struggle for all of us working in the arts drops us on our heads in the middle of our own idiomatic hells. I live in a debris field and keep trying to sort it out into a human path.

Have a look at and see how I’ve done.

Richard E. Green

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