In the moment of making art I can be what I wish I was: fearless, reckless, insuppressible. My art is partially informed by my career restoring antique objects and furniture. Restoring is painstaking work, focusing on the smallest of details. I am both nodding to and protesting against the patience and precision required to be a responsible restorer. The concept of restoration permeates my work - sometimes intentionally sometimes not. I have a mental library - complex layers of history, incident, damage, resurrection - from which I am always borrowing.
Sculptural patterns emerge, not necessarily in texture but in the processes- glazing, building, burning, reducing. I explore color and the way it changes with every action it receives. With a stroke, a glaze, a polish, a wax, an abrasion- a new color emerges full of its own story and implications.
I have a deep affection for industrial, urban settings. I spend time observing small details, changing surfaces and environments. Sidewalks. Puddles. Pigeons. Trucks. Train tracks. Scrap metal yards. I think about labor. Industry. Production. Insistence. The fortitude it takes to persist at something until it is finished. I consider a sea of nameless faceless laborers and artisans that built this city we walk around in, all its wonderment and gritty aesthetic. There are paintings everywhere. I just try to capture their essence.