After spending many years in and around the hawkish and imperial skyscrapers of the Empire City, the wandering feet of Phil Frost have stepped out of the concrete jungle and now tread in upstate New York, where he faithfully crafts his pieces with rapturous clairvoyance. Furnished with a caboodle of varying objects, Frost’s arsenal aims to cast a humming vibration of his mystic vision and psyche. Often confused as being cryptic and opaque, his work muses over the twisting perplexities of life.

Throughout his journey, Phil Frost bathed in pools of enlightenment, turning a curious child into a self-taught artist eager to furiously sponge up as much as possible. The road he trod down allowed the inherent and intuitive wisdom only gained by true introverted reflection to slowly be infused through the soles of his feet. The homegrown treasures uncovered in this process garner an obsessive energy unmatched by any other artist. Although to some his work may seem repetitive, it equally inscribes elation and wonder with mundanity and hollowness, echoing the challenging, but pedestrian, nature of life’s passage.

This careful, deliberate, precise, and delicate exploration has led him from stints scribbling with a marker on subway trains  and posting up with REVS to having his work shown alongside Dali, Picasso, and Warhol, leaving a blanket of the prominent white correction fluid found in his work on the minds of art critics and viewers alike. His deep, unconstrained, and layered works detail a path where the true oscillation of bits and pieces absorbed along the way ooze from his hand in the form of mask-like faces, patterns, hearts, stars, and dots, each bleeding with uninhibited honesty. He exposes the frenzied affair of existence and uses abstraction against itself to defy the notions of his work. Ripe with faded nostalgia and mystery, his work captures the swirling sentimentality of former times, the haunting familiarity of the forgotten, and the looming obscurity of the uncharted. Dare to step inside.