Bud Clayton was born in Abilene, Texas in 1984, but he no longer spends much time kicking dirt around rural roads. In terms of his work, the pieces themselves cross out, in hopes of revising them, the oppositions between what is natural and what is built.

For Bud, the sky reveals more than a singular expanse of hues: the dizzying grasp toward meaning that always flees is the only drizzle night sees; an atmosphere imploding in on its own memories. Of aesthetics and beauty, his cooking and tastes in literature abound suchly. As for the work itself, the trope of abstraction is handed over into the dirty hands of its blotted and sinking super-distant cousin: “presence.” Absolutes are broken down the moment he allows paint entry into the game.

Bud Clayton studied fine art-and-music at a local university, but his skills cannot be contained within the lines of classroom tone and and stuffy academic settings. It should be noted, however, that he did act as apprentice with other industry-recognized sculptors and painters. Moreover, and this gets rolled over from previous profiles, his art is still large and “abstract,” but something more ethereal that conceptualism sprawls within the edges of his immense work.

Lastly, Bud exhibits the talent of a multi-textured artist on this rise. Drawn from the material culture of everyday life, his oeuvre addresses raw corporeality, stunning materiality, and the lifted, concretized deterioration of what feels like having a body. Also, surfaces are always being painted.

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