Allison Miller’s Tree (2023) stages an encounter between perception and meaning. The green surface is
layered with overlapping forms; curves, leaf-like shapes, and repeated gestures that appear to follow a
system but never resolve into a coherent image. Each mark feels provisional, as if the painting were
thinking through its own organization. The longer one looks, the more that logic falters; edges shift,
rhythms break apart, and coherence gives way to uncertainty.

The painting’s title invites a deeper resonance. Tree recalls the Tree of Knowledge from the Garden of
Eden; the moment in the biblical narrative when seeing and knowing become inseparable, and
understanding carries the consequence of instability. Miller’s painting enacts a similar condition: the
viewer’s search for order produces awareness of how fragile perception can be. Meaning is not simply
found within the work but continually formed and undone through the act of looking.
Materially, the painting compounds this experience. Oil and acrylic mingle with lace, coins, and safety
pins, introducing tactile interruptions that resist visual absorption. These objects remind the viewer that
perception is not purely optical but grounded in touch, memory, and association. Each addition
functions like a small rupture in the painted field.

In Tree, collapse does not signal failure but the opening of another mode of attention. The painting
becomes a site where understanding is suspended, where the viewer oscillates between recognition and
doubt. Much like the Tree of Knowledge, Miller’s work situates perception at the threshold of
awareness, suggesting that what we come to “know” through vision is always contingent, unstable, and
subject to change.