6’ poems

PRESS RELEASE

When the world is too large to bear the weight of, 
We retreat back into our caves.

A painter’s studio is no more than a house, 
A space to get dirty in.

We glorify these works, in writing, in institution, 
but perhaps we should not,
As it only separates us further from ourselves.

Making marks on the wall,
The same marks we did as children, 
That received some type of admonishment. 
A thrill, to be told, not to, do, something.

And it is thrilling to see, still,
the marks we can make. 
These gorgeous accidents,
The antithesis of conceptualization, 
Something that requires only action–

This idea that anything could be done without thought, 
That is A Thrill, to behold.
That is the effort – letting go.

We can get lost at sea, or on land, it turns out, 
Or on the deck of the very boat you set sail on.

You may be moved, by the work itself, 
Or you can create your own wind 
With your flailing limbs.

And sometimes, a third thing appears, 
I don’t dare say the word.
Living and not, we are all here together,

These poems you see,
Are the truest portraits of a time lived; 
Messy, well, frenetic, Dead,
And writhing.

—Hannah Studnick

Jack Albrittain (b. 1994) is a painter from Vienna, Virginia and lives in Brooklyn, New York.

Please join us at the gallery Thursday, September 12 for an Opening Reception, 6-8PM

Jack Albrittain | Lavender with Cracks, 2024 | Oil and distemper on linen, 53 x 58 in