Our world has a constant relationship with material and biological destruction. I grew up in a military hospital observing medical procedures, which instilled a deep fascination with processes of damage and healing. I am always seeking out connections between metaphor and biology.  Certain architectural structures and objects seem to feel alive; especially those that carry history in their bones. Out of physical and metaphorical destruction grows my desire for preservation.

       I work largely with recycled materials to give them new life and exploit qualities that may otherwise be ignored. I'm compelled to hold on to fragments of things once their purpose has passed. It feels like an act of defiance against death itself: reaching through the abyss. My interest peaks where the function of a material begins to end. I choose to represent materials and subjects along a threshold of degradation, on the fringes of their intended purpose. Whenever possible, I capture something at the moment where it begins to fail, but just before it ceases to exist completely.

       Nocturnal creatures, especially bats, inspire me with their unique way of navigating and adapting to the world. They are intelligent, secretive, and magical; existing on the cusp of what is known and unknown, only revealing themselves through a momentary glimpse. Many cultures around the globe see bats as travelers between worlds. In my sculptures, they are trying to grasp that which will certainly escape them. It demonstrates the need to hold on to a life as it inevitably passes. A desperate feat to cling to something or someone precious; a doomed attempt to reach between worlds to deny the grip of death and withstand the destruction of time.

       When installed together, my sculptures are a record of a finite breath within an ever-evolving internal landscape. Each one is a frozen moment in an endless process of construction and deconstruction. Every installation is a map of ruins distorting around me. I navigate this using my own written hieroglyphic language. My language is an allegory for the cover of darkness, similar to the way a nocturnal creature maintains its obscurity in the shadows.

       The more that is suggested and the less that is known, the more fixated I become. This obsession is the basis of my research. I am constantly tugging at the balance of fragmentary information and context; trying to understand how much and how little can exist together to provide the right amount of history and mystery.