Everything I create is born from intuition and accident.

I use what others consider discard: grocery bags, paint, hair, plexiglass shards, bricks, rocks, wood chips, nails, tar paper, shingles, styrofoam, and my own bent, paint splattered papers. Everything that comes into my life is a potential collaborator. I rely on the properties of those objects to navigate the content of my work, and to avoid preconceived identifiable narratives. I engage my semi-conscious self by painting salient dream images immediately upon waking in the morning. The passing of time is also a collaborator; non-archival materials yellow the paint, the tar in the paper eats away at the imagery, and the memory of the dream fades, leaving only the artwork to remain. When work leaves the studio it invariably changes shape to recognize its new surroundings. In this cyclical process, it is more likely completed artworks transition into other artworks than they stay unchanged. Completion is a fleeting moment.

It is important that the viewer’s experience with my work mirror my own creative process; finding ground in the recognizable symbols and imagining what could be, feeling one’s way through darkness, like the intangibility of a dream.

The Block shape that repeats in my work is a symbol that encapsulates my process. It represents the act of bringing something latent into being. Lately the Block has become a muse, a conjurer. It exists in relation to me and to you, to my hands and to your hands, our intentions both shared and distinct, but never more than we can carry.