In a conscious inversion of portraiture's traditional function, Funk's subjects are all seen from the back, swathed in hooded coats made of synthetic and technologically engineered materials. The subjects' identities become anonymous, enveloped and displaced by their garments' contours and colors. The paintings become purely formal, floating abstractions of light, shadow, and rippling fabrics which recall Renaissance and Flemish 17th century portraiture. With an almost trompe l'oeil flourish, the human origin of the subject disappears into its stark white backdrop, with an emerging dimensionality that is tactile and engulfing.
Painted slightly larger than life-size, the figures are imposing and disquieting at first glance, belying a material magnetism that beckons further investigation. Every crease in each hood seems to suggest its own story, its own contribution to the mythology of the individual sitter and the group as a whole. Born out of Funk's interest in the mediation between intimacy and personal space experienced on a packed subway car, these folds and creases take on a metaphorical aspect, traces of human activity recorded into ostensibly inert and impermeable materials. The smallest details begin to suggest larger connections, as choices in attire and their functional properties also suggest modern extrapolations of traditional kinship and clan mentalities. In his negation of identity in portraiture, Funk's highly intensive practice has - seemingly in spite of itself - developed into a simple yet inscrutable index of the inescapable human tendency to negotiate selfhood.