Halos, broken circles, and sanctified figures recur across this work as both symbol and structure. In this ongoing series, the circle becomes a vessel: of divinity, of rupture, of play.
The seed of it is smaller than any of that. Jameson falls asleep each night in the same bed but never in the same position — a private, unconscious ritual, closer to an enso than a geometry: a form drawn in one breath, never quite closed, never twice identical. There's an ouroboros in it too, a circle that holds together only by consuming itself. The art circle began as this, before it became anything else.
Rendered with a stark minimalism and surreal wit, these images position the sacred within the ordinary — a dog at rest, a leaking bucket, a suburban field, even the machinery of war. Each composition invites viewers to consider how icons are made, dismantled, and reimagined in a contemporary world marked by technology, humor, and unease.
The project moves fluidly between the monumental and the intimate, between images that could hang as ancient altarpieces and those that wink with pop absurdity. What binds them is the circle: a timeless, universal form, fractured and reassembled here as both question and answer.