Artist and gallerist Steve Mykietyn takes a poetic turn on local artist Paul Weston's work. 

by Steve Mykietyn

 Darkened and blurred photos the idea of a dream or a nightmare, a psychic vision or a ghostly print made from ectoplasm, this transmission, as if there was a flat plane receiver that caught passing microwaves, radio waves, electromagnetic waves, working its way into a series.  Camouflaged as a buzz in the line this quiver or vibration with plates jocile- static hits the air and a shock.  Hairs on end and the moving plates shift and pull from each other leaving an impression.

 A glide and a skidder as if vibration made from pulling flat planes creating a rubbing clacking audible sound.  Planes of darkness black meets white, a stark contrast with blurred edges and hard at times. You can see yourself in the in the non-blackened areas that you think are white but really it is just reflecting the white of the room, a sort of deception, a lie that you told yourself without knowing it at first.  Then you see yourself as part of all this as with a mirror.  You looking at yourself and looking through it and all together at once.

 Blown out and blotchy you see your image reveal slowly as a sort of Rorschach print taken from a badly tuned hotel tv.  You point the remote at this confusing image of yourself and click pause as if you can be contained in this mirror, frozen and Dorian, but as you move it moves too and you realize you are inside any mirror.

Paul Weston, Optic, Oeil, Ojo, Oculus, cast silver, 2016