LooseCanine

I make story world¬s with an ensemble cast of characters.

LooseCanine is the moniker of an artist who prefers to let the work speak louder than the person behind it. And speak it does — loud, strange, visceral. The pieces hum with energy. They orbit, collide, and refuse to sit still. They don’t behave like paintings should. Each work starts flat — free flowing acrylic painted onto a hardboard surface — then gets cut, reshaped, repainted again and again, and rebuilt into dimensional reliefs. Jigsaws, scroll saws, and other tools come into play. What begins as painting becomes sculpture, collage, assemblage. The process is physical, improvisational, and deeply present. There’s no set plan. Just momentum. A cast of recurring figures anchors the chaos. A small dog, part trickster, part guide. A camel, both awkward and regal. And her — a central figure who’s been showing up for years, even in early sketchbook margins. Part Venus de Milo, part drag icon. Part Matisse cut out, part ghost, she’s ancient, mutable, and full of attitude. Together these figures form a visual language and narrative that’s evolving into something mythic. Despite the strangeness, the work never feels alien. It’s raw, but not careless. Free, but intentional. Nothing is polished, and that’s the point. The hand of the artist is always present — cutting, layering, letting the pieces reveal what they want to be. LooseCanine is about trust. About letting go of what a painting should look like. It’s a practice driven by curiosity, irreverence, and instinct. A kind of visual storytelling that’s as surprising to the artist as it is to the viewer. — Carrie Scott, curator