For me, an allegory of the creative process is Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s description of waking from a dream garden with a plucked flower in his hand.

My work is a tangible point where memory and imagination converge. The drawings are culled from mental scraps of actual events, memories, observations, books, stories and songs. They invite the viewer to consider our shifting relationship to our history, culture and our surroundings. Over the course of time, what does our changing perception of an American mythology look like? And how does the persistence of change affect the images we hold onto in the face of so much impermanence.

Each drawing contains a series of vignettes, which come together to communicate passages of a larger story. The narrative is often told with many of the same tools. I have developed a visual vocabulary that is repeated in the landscape and reflected in the regular use of the moon, mountains, sea and sky, which anchor each drawing. The regular representation of sea and sky reflect my interest in liminality, not just in the way that a sunrise or sunset is liminal, but also the liminal way our thoughts and memories transition to and from one another. Because memory itself creates a strange hierarchy, the arrangement of space and the primary and attendant imagery in each drawing follows the rules of that hierarchy. The way we remember some things over others is not logical; it is mysterious.

The drawings are composites, made from a combination of materials and methods. Each work on paper is begun with a liberal application of spray paint. This creates an atmospheric base, which I continue to build onto/into with drawing, airbrushing, stenciling, painting, and collage. Several layers of materials - graphite, charcoal, pastel, acrylic, gouache, collage, and ink - ultimately make up the final piece.

In Joan Didion’s The White Album, she wrote, “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” She is describing our very human need to document our lives, and how sharing and hearing stories assuages the burden of the existential nature of everyday experience. I consider myself a storyteller, playfully and thoughtfully reflecting the minutiae and melancholy in life.