The term resistance is most often used to refer to a political or personal act. In this case, however, it is more akin to electrical resistance; the degree of physical opposition a material provides against flowing current. Scientifically, this can be depicted with great facility—an electrician or engineer would provide diagrams and maybe equations as proof. In three-dimensions, one has to shift gears to imagine what the resisting force would look like, and in sculpture, or built form for instance, this can be performed. Forces (carving, chiseling, bending) manipulate a material, and, assuming that it does not disintegrate, what results is the artwork’s resistance. Since sculpting everything that comes to mind is impossible, painting is used. The painting becomes a sieve that captures portions of this rapid, flowing substance all within the boundary of the page, in colors and lines. In an effort to abstractly represent three-dimensional space in two dimensions, what is drawn and painted is the invisible architectonic resistance. Culturally, painting functions as the embodiment of personal ritual tied to daily making. As citizens, few things are fabricated in such a way that they are made and un-made daily. Pre-classical Greeks thought of the city as woven, and their daily rituals across the city grain would leave traces that ultimately resulted in the city fabric. Their buildings and streets would respond to this weave of bodies and light. In these particular paintings, the colors and lines respond to each other compositionally in the same manner. Humans need to fabricate daily, and in a sense, these are imaginary cities. By resisting the urge to construct or to transform these paintings into objects, or give them in any aspect an extra dimension, their analog is preserved. Therefore, they can continue to contain the imaginary, and cannot be built unless they were somehow merged and could function as a psychic urban armature.