Chris Wyrick is a painter from Charleston, SC. He studied classics, geology, religion and painting at St. John’s College, NOLS (National Outdoor Leadership School) and at Davidson College. He worked as an apprentice to painter Jack Beal in New York City and studied at the New York Academy of Art before receiving his MFA in drawing and painting from the University of Georgia in Athens, GA. He relocated his studio to Los Angeles in 2011.
Wyrick works in a wide variety of media and his artwork draws inspiration from many sources. Recurring themes in his work are transformation and duality - the polarities in our world that both divide us and unite us. His paintings are often based in natural forms, though he also works with images from photography and film. He embraces the dialectic of collaboration in the creative process and welcomes the opportunity to partner with other artists and designers.
In addition to working with more traditional drawing and painting media, Wyrick has invented a medium of drawing with checkerboard. He started drawing this way as a teenager as a mechanism to focus during classes in prep school, but it has grown over the years into a more politically charged means of expression. “The black and white of checkerboard is a divided line - a broken vocabulary - that I use to explore the shared and often divisive symbols and icons in our world.”
Through various media, I am exploring the dialectical relationships in our lives : the self to the other; parent to child; past to future; reason to absurdity; corporation to consumer; black to white; good to evil.
A Rabbit as King of the Ghosts
BY WALLACE STEVENS
The difficulty to think at the end of day,
When the shapeless shadow covers the sun
And nothing is left except light on your fur—
There was the cat slopping its milk all day,
Fat cat, red tongue, green mind, white milk
And August the most peaceful month.
To be, in the grass, in the peacefullest time,
Without that monument of cat,
The cat forgotten in the moon;
And to feel that the light is a rabbit-light,
In which everything is meant for you
And nothing need be explained;
Then there is nothing to think of. It comes of itself;
And east rushes west and west rushes down,
No matter. The grass is full
And full of yourself. The trees around are for you,
The whole of the wideness of night is for you,
A self that touches all edges,
You become a self that fills the four corners of night.
The red cat hides away in the fur-light
And there you are humped high, humped up,
You are humped higher and higher, black as stone—
You sit with your head like a carving in space
And the little green cat is a bug in the grass.