I like to ask unanswerable questions.
My works are inquiries and meditations on the uneasy relationship between our rational and illogical selves. Though our world is built on a foundation of instability, chaos and random chance, we try to order it, want to control it and pretend we understand it. What I make is precarious, because I think we are precarious.
I make objects out of dissimilar, contradictory materials. They are simultaneously hard and soft, held together by gravity and magnetism. They corrode, warp, and fray. They're balanced, but ready to fall.
I use soft, yielding silk made variably stiff with paint, and sometimes pair it with hard metal objects—including found kitchen hardware, clamps, and screws. I make marks by carefully painting cartographic patterns across the fabric, or deliberately folding and draping the fabric across measured and marked planes. I superimpose geometry—the rational, exacting stuff of flat planes, triangles, and rectangles—over or under something messy and organic in form. The result is a mixed architecture that is topographical, but reads the same as a painting or abstracted landscape.
I build and accumulate records of things I expected to control but didn’t. I reuse remnants of discarded works so the newer, finished works hold a history of failure, curiosity, random outcomes, and delight—all verifications of my humanity.