Seth Bauserman (b. 1989) makes paintings that look like they’ve survived something—scraped, taped, sanded, bruised sheets of paper that have been pushed to their material limits. The layers build and gather only to be peeled back again, leaving marks, hints, and faint impressions of decisions underneath. In his work, these layers of paper become something more than a surface for marks. They are characters: vulnerable, stubborn, sometimes barely holding it together.
Bauserman’s practice explores the delicate experiences of identity and memory. Each piece is treated as a site where clarity and confusion share equal weight. His compositions hold tension rather than resolve it, inviting viewers to sit inside the messy human process of revealing and obscuring oneself.