James parker foley

A Cruising Guide to the Maine Coast

July 5 – August 6, 2025

‘A Cruising Guide to the Maine Coast’ is a dense, chewy show. It’s not just the end result, the answer to the question — but rather, the entire line of inquiry. Through a growing lexicon of symbols, motifs, and color worlds, I am constructing an otherworld — a version of the Maine Coast that lives inside of me.

— James Parker Foley

Exhibition Views Artist Statement Selected Works Press

Artist Statement

When I first came across a copy of A Cruising Guide to the Maine Coast in August of 2023, I did a double-take. With mild disbelief, I examined the cover and quickly realized that despite what seemed to me to be a rather suggestive title, the book was not about cruising — as in, cruising — but about cruising — as in, sailing. I decided to take the book home. It seemed to me to be a sign from the universe, and despite its seafaring subject matter, I hoped it would prove, in some way, instructive.

That summer, I was in the midst of becoming someone new, and although I wasn’t quite sure who that person was or what he looked like — I was certain the person I wanted to become was someone who went cruising.

In a sense, this show is the cruising guide I was looking for. Although my work isn’t narrative in a strict sense, it is autobiographical. Consisting of work made over the course of two and a half years, this show chronicles a period of intense transformation in my life and practice.

A Cruising Guide to the Maine Coast cuts a broad path: four mediums address varied symbols, scales, and subjects. It is a dense, chewy show. It’s not just the end result, the answer to the question — but rather, the entire line of inquiry. In this sense, I would describe the show as unabridged: it covers just about everything. That’s what a guide does. Through a growing lexicon of symbols, motifs, and color worlds, I am constructing an otherworld — a version of the Maine Coast that lives inside of me.

The otherworld I’ve created is a place where the mundane falls away, where the messy work of becoming who we are is diligently performed. It is a place to wrestle demons, to make peace with doubts, and to dispassionately observe fantasies. The landscape compositions are mazes that bring us to that world; hills, bunting, and cones act as signifiers that a portal is nearby. Works with figures illustrate the type of work being done there — the demon-wrestling, the quiet becoming. The text works are coded messages from the otherworld that cross the border into the mundane and hide in snippets of language and type. They appear as luminous cracks between worlds, reminding us that we can always return.

I have come to think of cruising not just as a manifestation of queer desire, but also as a state of being: a way of moving through a given situation in effortless concert with possibility. This is the quality of being I try to inhabit within my practice.

The earliest works in this show were made during the period of time when I realized I was trans. Within these works, I was able to envision parts of myself that I hadn’t yet been able to articulate in any other way. My drawing practice created a point of no return; once I could see a vision of who I was supposed to be, I could not live in a world as anyone else. At the time, I didn’t realize what a resounding act of hope they were. Looking at them now, I know I wouldn’t exist without them.