I consider my work as an adventure, a journey.  Rarely do I have a clear image in mind when I begin a new piece, and I am usually surprised by the outcome when I finish.  I let my process drive my work, packing it with the many things I think about and the things I’m interested in.  I am fascinated with the amazing world we live in and the mysteries of life, and my work is an exploration into the simple complexity of it all. 

 

I cut and glue pieces of paper (old journals, cereal boxes, books, maps, etc.), and I paint.  I draw and scrape; I sand things off; I layer things on top of things; I build, and the images and objects emerge.  My work is layered and thick and rich, and it includes hazy memories from the past, tangible moments of the present, and glimpses into an indescribable future.  I’m interested in the notion that, as wonderfully beautiful and multifaceted as it is, this life reveals only a fraction of what I can actually see.

 

Owing much to my experience as an architect, I work in both two- and three-dimensional formats, and many of my pieces are either square or cubic because of my insatiable fascination with cubes.  If not a cube or a square, I usually use the Golden Mean rectangle as my format.  I like the clear, mathematical geometry of these shapes as a ground for the work I produce on them, something rigid, something solid to hold onto.  I frequently set up artificial rules in a piece, and then break them with delight.  My work is active and physical and hard on me.  I sweat.  I struggle.  I like it.  Juxtapositions of chaos and order, beauty and ugliness, layers of seduction, and contradiction:  these things fascinate me.

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