The breakdown of myself and others is something I continually contemplate. I was born to a family of giants—people who understood the sovereignty of dirt; that the Earth would provide or take on a whim. Two families, one taming wilderness and one tilling fields merged into me. I grew up to an old generation, slowly fading. My summers were spent in the deep woods where rain and moss and debris sprung new life; with my brothers I roamed lands so dry and weathered that we could watch the best of the world crack and peel. It is an inescapable part of me that everything must return to ash and dust, a truth that grounds me in the western race for youth and perfection. 


In crises, we are confronted with the inarguable truth that we are all at once limitless in potential while limited in form. Within our minds, we feel infinity; we sense our consciousness to be something ageless within a fallible container. These bodies, which empower us and shape our environments, also contain an intense fragility—susceptible to illness, injury, and loss. No matter the media, my work investigates the imperfect characteristics of human experience. By processes of fragmentation and reduction, I imagine bodies and spaces as emotional objects that contain injury, history, complexity, and meaning—inseparable from inevitable decay.