The way one body relates to another is complicated and clunky. I’m unsure why we are compelled to continuously improve ourselves for one another, or rather, it’s remarkable how we change over time. Like many others, I look to my hands for guidance as I work to understand what it is to live inside of a human body. My hands assure me I won’t stop learning, so long as they are involved.
There are materials that I prefer to work with
tape, clay, paint, canvas, paper, sentimental objects
and words that my hands use as starting points
fill, overlap, turn, hold, weave, offer
These words are simple, short questions. I answer directly and honestly with what is available to me. I grow loyal to materials as I ask more of them, and in return, they ask more of me. The body, as a form, is a placeholder for the desire to give all of myself to something. Slightly larger than their original forms, materials make outlines of my limbs, feet, fingers and hands that are an ideal size. They contain the information of exactly how I was, and are no less exact in who I hope to be soon.
My paint-can-palette consists of two dollar mistint misfits. Colors find companions after shuffling around the room or hanging out together on the floor and shelves. Thick layers of paint take time to dry, usually aging nicely as their tough skin develops. I am most affected by work that shows the time and effort involved in understanding.
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Skiba was born and raised in a small town in Wisconsin. After receiving his Bachelor of Fine Arts degree from the University of Wisconsin, Madison he moved to Portland, OR to pursue the yearlong Emerging Artist Mentorship Program at Ash Street Project. After a few years at Ash Street Project, Skiba now lives and works out of his home studio in Portland, recently starting a gallery project, Hide & Seek (@hideandseekgallery)