My work is autobiographical, revealing glimpses into my everyday observations, quandaries, insights and revelations. It is both expressive and minimalist, often weaving Zen Buddhism and yoga influences in an effort to capture the dynamic stillness of my subject matter.

To me, glass has a sensuous quality of depth and space that invites the application of multiple layers. Working on acrylic glass allows for a more liberal array of applications, such as cutting and carving, by which I can further explore space and texture. In this work, I integrate materials from my everyday: prints of floral patterns from clothing and other linens, thread used to stitch a pillow, house paint to refinish a dresser. Whether the layers are paint, paper, marker, found materials or the reflection of objects traced into the image, they build rich visual narratives when assembled onto acrylic glass.

Because I work on the reverse side only, these images on glass emerge from foreground to background. Once a mark is made, and another overtop, it is a point of no return. I welcome the surprises that result, the lack of complete control that encourages spontaneity and allows freedom and intuition into my process, capturing a fleeting moment or the sliver of a thought or feeling. I also welcome the existing dynamic tension between exposure and isolation. Glass has a voyeuristic quality, leaving the personal image to reside in a place that is penetrative yet detached and shielded.

Spontaneity is present in my work on used drumskins before I even make my first mark. In fact, it was a moment of awakening that served as the catalyst for my other coexistent body of work. As a drummer, for years when sitting at my drums, I got lost in the pictures I saw in the surface of the drumskins. These pictures were triggered by the inadvertent marks left from the drumsticks. One day, this act of seeing pictures entered my consciousness and a satisfying collision of my two artistic worlds occurred. I realized that while I drum, I also draw. This profoundly arresting moment led me to keep, from that day on, every used drumskin for use in my visual practice. I also gather and transform discarded drumskins of other Toronto-based drummers as well as the Blue Man Group.

With each hit of the drumstick in the act of pounding out rhythms, stippled, clouded areas form on the drumskins over time. After extended use, these battered skins require changing because they no longer produce quality sound. Once removed from their drum shells, my visual work begins: the drumskins are reinvented into canvases. The stippled areas, ready and waiting, direct me before I add to the worn skins; they dictate the image to come. These pre-existing marks have an undeniable rhythmic energy, and once I transform them into a picture, they hover amid the minimally applied paint, paper or drawn lines as the focal point in each piece. Flames of a burning fire, spinning winds of tornados, rushing tsunamis, the foliage in trees, running horses, flying birds - images expressing my emotions and experiences - resume from that instant where the beat left off.

Though started independently, my work on acrylic glass and on used drumskins cross over and inform one another. Collectively, they provide a conduit for my inner artistic workings to reflect my everyday, to resonate with fleeting thoughts and impressions, inviting the viewer to share and find meaning in the experience.

Silvana Bruni's bio