Can you Feel Me Under Here.

I can’t tell you exactly what is going on today. I am reaching into the murky water and hoping to not be poisoned by cyanobacteria blooms.

My busy hands could stand to take a moment to wash my face.

My busy mouth could rest a minute from whatever it is doing, I lost track.

Welcome whole-heartedly into this space.
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My work has been a mix of structures, sculptures, drawings, prints, and dioramas exploring touch, ambivalence, humor, and the unseen. The setting is domestic but expansive.

I lay on the floor a lot and observe how the table leg touches the floor. I spend a lot of time down low. My materials are gathered from daily occurrences. Be it scraps from jobs or picking through free piles on a walk, I look to some level of chance curating, thriftiness, ecological concerns, and the community of people I am a part of to inform my work and material choices.

My most recent work mainly consists of prints made using discarded food and beverage cartons as the matrix for printing. I have used circles of wood to make block prints that had been the burners from my children's old play kitchen. Inside a recent tent, the arm of a broken Bigfoot statue holds a braid of my parents and my hair. My neighbor saves me all of her toilet paper wrappers. My brother’s girlfriend, who I haven’t met in person yet, mailed me a box of floral fabric. Do you need to know this? Probably not. But for some reason it is important to me. There is something there that is beyond what I can explain. I just can’t tell you.