Artistic statement

In childhood, I would drift through several books at once. Sometimes their stories melted together, and another tale was born—one made from borrowed beginnings, meandering middles, and misplaced endings.

Rivers, art teachers, and my sleepy right eye taught me the secret of merging things. My left eye became a collector, fiercely gathering images, encounters, and sensations. I stuff them into my leaky pockets. As they scatter, they seed a wild, thick forest, where wandering creatures sing and now and then come to visit me, asking to be captured.