Guards in museums and art galleries fascinate me. They are there guarding the art on display to ensure we don’t look with our fingers, or touch it with our breath. They are the one fixture in the room that moves, and moving in rotation with their colleagues, from gallery to gallery. For the exhibit visitor, they are guard, guard is their identity, the label we give them, the one fixture in the room without a label, hence: “guard.”

In this series of paintings I make the guard is subject. I explore their place in the gallery. Where in the gallery are they? What is their sight line in relationship to the works on display, or the passage to the next gallery guarded by a colleague. Are they standing still? Are they fidgety? Or do they stand in a yogic rest position? Do they walk? Back and forth? Are they pacing? Do they stare straight ahead? Are they open to making eye contact? I have seen all these behaviors and more.

To what extent are they there because the management considers it good practice, and to what extent because the insurance policy requires their presence?

What do they know about the artworks in the galleries they’re stationed? Could you ask them a question about any of them? Some museums educate the guards about the exhibits, and to share what they learned with the interested visitor. I appreciate such empowerment.

I paint these from snapshots I’ve taken over the years. I say snapshots, as I take them candidly, capturing them as they are, unposed, arms crossed or akimbo, standing, leaning or sitting, empty-handed, or reading a leaflet, or scrolling on a cell phone.

At home, I go through the photos and pick the ones that speak to me the most, based on the guard’s juxtaposition with art and other features, their pose, their place in the architecture, etc.

I skew the selected photo in Photoshop to make the vertical lines parallel, and crop the photo to the proportion of the canvas I plan to paint the painting on.

I think of these paintings as odes to the guards expressed in a medium they protect.