Statement PDF

My approach to imagery is corporeal. Humored by the response of voluptuous forms to the obstacles that violate them, I anthropomorphize objects and the human body. A tree oozes over a barbed wire fence in the same way that a belly overflows a belt; soft swallows hard.

Like a cartoonist, I strive to depict manifestations of force action and reaction. As if complicit, objects become verbs: skin recoils, flesh droops, vines choke and fungi cling; tree bark scars leaving crusty scabs, orifices pucker and engulf. Walking through the forest, my world is incarnate.

Driftless: Can’t See the Forest for the Trees refers to the Driftless Area of the Midwest. Metaphorically, the title confesses the micro-centricity that drives my vision. Valuing imperfection, my attempts to mimic the landscape are deliberately crude. I liken the painstaking handiwork of human endeavor to the obsessive, teaming industry at work in the woodland.

Material exploration is central to my process, and finds expression in abject crudeness and refined polish. I juxtapose the two to remind myself, and the viewer, that artifice and the natural world are separate realities. Foam, gypsum and papier-mâché are staples in my studio. When epoxy resin coats pink Polystyrene, it evokes a flush. My work is idiosyncratic, tempered by a sharp, sexual edge.

Excess is found in substance and action. Nature’s takeover of manmade is concrete and allegorical. I have witnessed vegetation prodigiously engulf civilization. At Ta Prohm, thitpok trees tighten their muscly grip on the ancient temple. You can almost hear the cartilage pop.