I am drawn to circumstances in which I lose my bearings or find myself in unfamiliar territory — when I encounter or see something that has yet to be contextualized or mastered. Early on I had the opportunity to study and then work overseas, and I have continued visiting far-away destinations seeking unmitigated interaction with the people and diverse cultures. I embrace the highs and lows of landing in an unknown terrain, finding myself an alien without moorings and relying on streetwise survival instincts. Having to be on my toes, I feel unencumbered by past conditioning and personal baggage. Seeking vulnerability and ways to break free of ingrained practices in my art making, I constantly work with new material and invent new techniques, welcoming the incomplete and rough. Ironically, this has led me to find inspiration in both the iconoclastic and the venerable, that which is freshly formed and that which is marked by experience or use. I identify with the unfettered sensibility of the puer aeternus, the eternal youth for whom everything is still possible. At the same time, my global encounters have fostered an appreciation for the timeworn and wounded, and I feel a kinship with those who salvage, repair, and repurpose, human activities that exert a redemptive force instilling new life — making something whole that was lost.
My fabric pieces are an exploration of stitching together in which I emphasize their handmade quality, which allows for the beautiful mistake and an empathetic connection. Daily work in my sketchbook is the means by which I unlearn that which is rote or mannered as well as develop a personal vocabulary from images that I find compelling. I recognize the influence of my early classical art training in écorché, building up the figure from skeleton to muscle to skin, in how I feel how one contour leads to another and find the asymmetry of a form. Yet even with this foundational practice, for me it is about the pull from one place to another and the offbeat.