Jan Simonds

The reverberating effect of my grandmother’s passing in September of 2021 caused me to take a personal inventory of my practice. I was born in America and spent my childhood and teenage summers with loving family in Slovakia, a culture ever-presently Catholic pressuring me to intercept my homosexuality. For the past year and a half, I limited my time on social media to purge my hesitation from what became imperative, letting go of intense self-imposed fear and exerting pent-up energy. Compelled by the empathy and care they have shown my whole life, the resulting body of work details a distilled, layered forgiveness.

Over each drawing are fluctuating crosses, interrupting subjects like wrought-iron fences. The imagery, including porn actors kissing, a family pet, and a close-up of plastic cemetery trash, fight for harmony. As one object, they reflect an amalgam of Slovak towns: Brutalist, Folk, Romanesque, and Gothic architecture that underscores daily life. The carved channels in each frame invoke the radiance I felt opening up and sought to render. They are hand-made of plywood, cut with a saw and chisels, and I sand the paper repeatedly. These physical processes with utilitarian tools bypass my tendency to overthink, allowing subconscious honesty to take charge.