There is a particular magnetic pull towards materiality. I tend to hold on to things that others might throw away, creating works from everything from my kid’s outgrown clothes to non-decomposing plastic bags. When seeing the fabric, the psychedelic swirls juxtaposed with the furry beige toilet seat cover I threw away last year, the mediums sing, complementing one another.  Piles of wine bottles suffocate my studio waiting to be smashed and transformed. Transparent champagne tulle leftover from my handmade wedding dress is intertwined with plastic bags in waves of associative impulse. When constructing paintings, I overlay fabric swatches, painting in lucid brushstrokes, giving the material a chance to breathe...

I am an explorer of parts, junk, and yesterday's treasures. Ideas come to me methodically, like labor and instinctually as combinations of material that part a path through the possibility-stuffed clutter of my domestic life. The subconscious mind is intriguing to me; my work relates to social constructs, and superstructures that affect the mind.

In a world bent on categorization and clean definitions, I teeter on the edge of everything yet commit to nothing, surfing my subconscious. I am an artist before everything, race, class, status, and gender. This world is a sea and my instincts are my compass.