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There is torment here, but it’s balanced with peacefulness. The journey was long, but you are whole because of it.
Fleeting Moments, 2017, Oil on canvas, 48” x 36”
Desiderium is nostalgia that runs deep under the skin. From the Latin for “to desire,” it suggests a profound longing, perhaps even a sense of grief for what has been lost. So often people like their nostalgia to be honeysuckle sweet, but with titles like The Walls of Our Mind, Perseverance, Faulty Memories in Our Mind, and The Journey Home, Miller’s work seeks to balance the light with the dark. Bad memories haven’t been repressed—at least not completely. In these blurry scenes, dark clouds break to let light in, and wet earth relishes the passing storm. A painting isn’t titled Peace but rather Ensuing Peace—peace that comes after something else. Miller, a former physical therapist assistant who moved to Nashville a little over three years ago, is comfortable with nostalgia in a way that few can be. He has only favorable things to say about his childhood, either because it was only good or because that’s the only way he wants to remember it. Although he paints from his imagination, many of Miller’s works recall his childhood home of Western Maryland and the foothills of the Appalachians. Others have a stormy, watery quality from the East Coast. Others could be Midwestern vistas. None exhibit the destructive power of nature, but rather its ability to comfort. “It’s an escape,” Miller explains of his painting process.
Ensuing Peace, 2017, Oil and encaustic on board, 24” x 24”
“Sometimes I already have imagery in my head prior to getting in the studio; other times I have to sit and stare at it for five, ten minutes. But then the landscape starts to jump out at me and I roll with it. When I see the image, that is a peaceful time. That’s when the flow begins. Time doesn’t exist. It’s kind of my meditation.” While this sounds very intimate, Miller’s work requires—no, expects—its viewer’s presence. As he describes his paintings, Miller never talks about his own journey or his own memories in detail. It’s always in terms of what his viewer might remember, know, and see. In this way, humanity isn’t missing from the landscapes; your presence is mandatory. “One of the greatest compliments that I love hearing from people, and I get this all the time, is this piece reminds me of where I grew up, or this piece reminds me of home,” Miller says. “They’re seeing this generic painting, so to speak, generic in the sense that it’s not very well defined—it’s very subjective—and they’re finding pieces of their own memories and connecting the dots. I love that. I connect with my work, but I want other people to connect with it as well.” It’s clear that Miller has tapped into something universal in the
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