I have always seen my work as a collection, both in and of itself as well as a vital collection of the more intangible parts of life. The work is a collection of marks, marks which are at once all similar yet maintain distinct nuances due to there being handmade. My paintings for me are a collection of experiences, feelings, stories, desires; they are a collection of time, a collection of the months and years of my life. They are a collection of me, as an artist and as a human being. The work I do now as well as the work I am led to in the future be what will mark the collection of days that was my life. To me repetition and patterning, mimic life, so much of life is repetitive, sometimes stilitifyingly so, we end up finding the meaning in the slight variations, like a collection o days. Like looking at a lifetime, we see, the convergence of a story, a steady line all blended into itself, day after day, only when we get close do we notice the individuality of days, and perhaps those ten or twelve days in a lifetime, which contain the events that changed us forever.

My drawings are about subtraction as they are about adding. I subtract marks, I delete them, and I erase them. Often those seem more potent, for their residue is ever apparent, it is the desire to hide them to wish they never existed that makes them impossible to not look at. Similar to the days we might like to erase from our lives, those lines of memory forever embedded in our brains. Trying to erase again and again, knowing it an impossible feat, for they are forever burned into our very character.

My work is also about the simple material nature of making things, the means of escape someone can harness when attempting to craft a world or vision, unencumbered by the drudgery of daily existence. The organic coupled with the inorganic, chaos coupled with control, life invariably coupled with death, motion coupled with the inert. The only way I see is via stark contrast, unfortunately, most of life is the stark contrast of desire coupled with disappointments. Perhaps work keeps that feeling of longing at bay.