When I wake up in the middle of the night, I am at my most rational. Everything is in stasis in a space between days. Colors are confirmed and fantasy is outlined in permanent ink. As a new day dawns however, sunlight makes its own sense of the places I inhabit. Memory fades and fantasy remains a dream.

I strive to make these things real.

I use autonomous drawing to inspire sculptural design. I love the activity of problem solving architecturally. Once my dream is on paper, I analyze it. I scrutinize it. I try to make sense of it. Ultimately, the most perplexing drawings are rendered in clay in the scale of me.

Each component is rendered as a disparate illustration of a fleeting thought. Inevitably, the components come together to form a model of my subconscious.

The end results are like frozen cartoons.

My work is not a replica of the midnight vision. That would be difficult to achieve. The vision serves as a benchmark.  Later in the studio, I try to commemorate its beautiful freedom. Sometimes my partnership with the material is easy. Many times it’s a fight, but my interaction with the work is always a very real conversation.

For the past few years, my studio has been devoted to studying ceramic material; learning its technical nuances and historical relevancy.  I am beginning to realize that the studio has been studying me in return. While I keep my practice as open-ended as possible, my works are surprisingly demanding when it comes to their own fruition. Each yearns to be authentic. Each yearns to be my favorite.

I am drawn to graphite and clay because the materials are very fast. They often outrun me. Luckily, they can be erased, refined, and improved. I display my finished works as hardened negotiations of an otherwise liquid notion. The temporary is made permanent. The trivial is made heavy. The unreal is made real.