Every morning I wake up and have this hazy half recollection of a series a dreams the night before. The linearity doesn’t follow, the settings and props are spontaneous, space and time are surreal. However, something inside me lets me know that it all makes sense.
Fred Stonehouse’s painting and works on paper take these somber peaceful moments of fantasy and serenity and materialize them into works of folky nostalgia. Stonehouse’s work lies somewhere between the illustrations of children’s books found in your grandparents closet and a fever dream.