Human beings have always been my favorite subjects, particularly their imperfections. I search for quirks and flaws, embedded in our eyebrows and etched into the wrinkles of our skin, then bring them to the surface through paint, charcoal, ceramics, and often a combination of the three. By working in various mediums, I am able to project a broader, more powerful visual dialogue.
Before graduating college, I felt a tremendous weight of responsibility on my generation to fix apocalyptic world problems we had caused. I saw the world as a junkyard with evidence of our impact cluttering the horizon. I noticed that many of my peers seemed to be aware of what was around them but apathetic to it. Some made gallant attempts to battle the storm; others were blown into the wind. As I sought for themes of regeneration, I turned to urban landscapes, drawn to the juxtaposition of decay and extraordinary growth.
Upon graduation I longed for a fresh start and perhaps an escape from the weight. I relocated to a small mountain town in Japan where I observed serene landscapes and an inspiring coexistence of mankind. Through calligraphy I discovered a new aesthetic that centers around simplicity, balance, and slight imperfection. I began to embrace simple beauty in life and found great satisfaction in meditating on a single word at a time.
Art-making is often a lamentation for me, a physical means of dealing with that which is intangible or beyond my control. But even in despair, I always look for distractions: beauty, humor, and always a glimmer of hope.