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.