My interest lies in the systems that humans create for themselves in order to make sense of the world and our place in it. Philosophy and the various religions of the world are systems that I find fascinating, but there are many others. Science, geometry, mathematics, poetry, literature, mythology, fairy tales, music; all are the result of humans trying to puzzle out the mystery of existence, and they all describe a different part of the same story – and though the methods differ they often reach strikingly similar conclusions. Many of these systems are complex and far-reaching, created by deep thinkers. But many are of our own personal design, created to explain, organize or cope with situations in our individual lives.

Another aspect of my work is the difference between the conclusions we reach with the logical, reasoning, conscious part of ourselves, and the ones that appear suddenly from our intuitive subconscious. We accommodate an incredible amount of informational input in this modern day, and very little of it is from the natural world with which we evolved. Most of it is information we ourselves have created and compounded, and the resulting blizzard of swirling facts and useless trivia is mind-boggling. Yet, although culturally we give ourselves very little time to be quiet and still, to mentally digest, our subconscious manages to take it all in and occasionally give back a flash of insight.

Our inner and outer selves interact, inform and create the other: physical & spiritual, logical & intuitive, intellectual & psychological, conscious & subconscious.

This process is reflected in my choice of media. Collage, assemblage and installation all utilize existing objects that are collected, taken out of context, and then reconfigured into new relationships. The collecting and sorting of those objects are methodical activities of accumulating information, whereas the recognition of meaning between two disparate objects is an intuitive occurrence.  


COLLAGE

The Structure of Accumulation series was influenced by several sources, from religious art of the past, to recent scientific discoveries. The first is the ancient form of Buddhist mandalas, which use simplified floor plans as metaphors for the structure of the human soul. The Structure series proposes that the modern soul would reside in a somewhat less well-proportioned structure than those represented by the mandalas. Supposing our psychological/spiritual selves are formed by what we think – in the way our bodies are composed of what we eat – modern-day souls are made not only of responsibilities shouldered, love shared, curiosities and daydreams, but also of the immense amount of information we absorb, the stress we cope with, the frustration we repress, and our pervasive multi-tasking habits. Existing in a spiritual space of manipulated perspective similar to that of Medieval religious paintings, the buildings in the Structure series show that the architectural versions of our modern selves feature some strong basic forms, but there are also dark, disturbing rooms in the basement, stairs that lead nowhere, rickety support structures that could fall at any moment, and odd rooms added to the original building in order to accommodate new ventures. The ‘building materials’ are gathered from the never-ending stream of input we encounter daily, both good and bad.

The Pivots of Moment series speculates on the psychological and spiritual processes of change and growth. Altered figures cut from old photographs and placed in a spare landscape are attached to, and interact with, unusual objects. These various situations are meant to evoke the inexplicable moments in a life when something essential changes; the internal epiphanies that force the reshaping of external existence. Sometimes humorous, sometimes mournful, they represent specific yet mysterious psychological events.

An on-going series, Selfless explores several ideas. The main concept behind these pieces is the Buddhist idea of removing one’s self, or ego, so that the creative force of the enlightened mind can operate freely within one’s consciousness. The missing figures create an eerie sense of loss, but the world has filled in behind the silhouettes, giving them another sort of shape and form – a memory of sorts, but also an indication of the continuity of the world despite the loss of an individual. The use and destruction of old photographs not only questions the value of the photos themselves as objects, but also the hardiness of treasured memories, and the sense of self we derive from those memories.