With Foul Ball, I wanted to capture the abrupt, heart-stopping shift of focus that happens when a game suddenly spills past the boundary lines.
The lower half is anchored by a vibrant, textured expanse of green turf, abruptly cut across by heavy, jagged slashes of deep black paint. Above this barrier, a warm, sandy peach field rises up, interrupted by sharp horizontal black strokes that slice through the space like a line driving out of bounds.
Working in oil on paper, the raised impasto holds a heavy, tangible presence against the absorbent background. Foul Ball is about that split-second shock of redirection, where the action flies wildly off course and demands your immediate attention.
