For a long time, I could not explain the fractures in my sculpture.  The works I create can be broken down into a few radically different “strains,” seemingly unrelated to each other.  One part of me creates geometric and organic fusions:  sculptures that invoke seed forms and other-worldly growths.  Another part of me creates oversized steel flower-like traps and bone forms that could be relics of animals long extinct.  But at other times, hybrid, transitional forms emerge as if distinctions become fluid and are no longer operable; differences break down and the walls between opposites crumble.  In those moments, my work seems to attempt an abstract, uneasy fusion of a primal conflict.

But looking over what I’ve created, I begin to understand that no single approach is sufficient.  Though I may try, I simply cannot limit myself to a single style because I believe these conflicts are increasingly relevant as we move forward.  The world we live in and the world we’ve left behind continue to inform our every action.   My contradictory forms are needed to make palpable the space that lies between them.  It is that primeval space which continues to inform our engagement with the world.