As a child, I remember living in an isolated farmhouse off a gravel road.
Imagination was essential to life.
A chicken coop became a castle, a pile of dirt became a mountain, an old metal slide became a monster’s throat.
Thrift was essential to play.
Like a child, when you have no control over your world, you make what you can out of what you have. Now, as an adult, I can see that the times of control in my life have been few and far between if they existed at all. As a result, I’ve never stopped acting out my childhood play---art. With whatever was available to me and in my grasp.
My visual language is the first language that inflamed my imagination; bedtime stories and fairy tales. Far from always been sweetness and innocence, the stories we tell children have-- for generations--been full of darkness, villainy, and the morbid.
My art is about taking a mark or a mess—and making it meaningful. Taking something that’s frightening and breaking it down. My art, for me, is about working through the chaos of life—the darkness and villainy—and finding something beautiful on the other side.