I started my artist-life as a painter. I left painting behind to work mostly in sculpture. I wrote in a artist’s statement from that time that I wanted to take up space. And so I made sculpture in order to occupy the desired space.
Now, at time that (for me) feels like an aesthetic statement could potentially be so meaningless and inadequate, I am older but still have so many questions. There’s part of me that feels like I can give myself permission to disappear into images; can a work just be a small collection of objects? but flat and softly. The works themselves live in a present moment, acting as offerings in tableau, fully separate from a direct reference to my body; resisting its interference.
What is wholly consistent in my work, always: The work exists somewhere between mimesis and memory.

This body of work consists of dry, desiccated forms hinting at serene, detached geological forms, eccentric vessels and landscapes. The surfaces are matte, desaturated and pastel: devoid of oxygen or moisture like a desert, but glowing with pale, ethereal light.
The works explore themes of isolation, vulnerability and serenity: manifesting in awkward, unbalanced forms with soft surfaces and textures in subtle, ethereal pastel colors. The hushed and restricted palette pushes tints just to the edge of white but stay one step back, blushing in pinks and bruising into greys and purples.