This painting—From Pittsburgh with Love—the first in the series “After the Sorting,” begins with the remnants of one man’s life: the haunting self-portrait in a military uniform; a letter typed on mimeograph paper and corrected by hand; a shiny, gold Masonic pin; a fragment of torn fabric; evidence of a lifelong devotion to fishing. This collection of things left behind has us ask “What survives after a life has been reduced to objects?” Gathered after his death, these fragments offer evidence, but not explanation. This piece presents a study of the man. It examines the architecture of a life that was built around control, achievement, identity, and measurement.

The dominant fish, assembled from symbols rather than likeness—a creature both watchful and unknowable—emerges as more than a memory of a favorite pastime. Its eye, the gold Masonic pin, transforms an emblem of identity into something alive. The fish appears as the man’s avatar. Overbearing on the right half of the painting, its both beautiful and predatory. A fish is, after all, is a creature that survives by swallowing smaller lives.

And then there are the repeated patterns and barely distinguishable column of numbers, suggesting systems of structure and control that speak to a life spent measuring, ordering, and accounting for the world. However, these refuse perfect alignment and the systems that once seemed so important have dissolved. Order is implied but never fully achieved.

This series reaches beyond autobiography because what remains is the emotional residue carried by the people who survive. We’re forced to ask: How do I hold all of this? What do I keep? What do I release?

What remains “After the Sorting” cannot fully account for the lives people shaped or the invisible legacies they leave behind.