I like to imagine what it would be like if I had the power to carve channels into the side of a boulder with a single scooping motion of my hand like a spoon gliding through a melon. What would the hollow space in the boulder reveal? How would the earth respond to a force that is not supposed to exist? I suspect that rather than display the hidden rock within, The scoop would uncover a surface that is profoundly blank. A whiteness as resolute as a mountain that has withstood the erosive power of glaciers. Maybe the white hollow turns out to be a portal into another dimension. Or maybe it just is.

I make sculptures that are conglomerations of plaster and wooden molds. I want to experience the gap between my vision of a potential thing and the confrontation with materials. The process of making molds distorts my conjectures about the feeling of coming into contact with surfaces in impossible ways.

My work privileges physicality, and the tepid and tenacious over moving in one fell swoop. This creates a personal sense of intimacy and awareness, and a momentary cessation to my need to reach out and touch everything.