I remember the simple passions of childhood, the unwavering dedication to staying inside the imposing black lines of a coloring book page and attempting, in crayon, a sort of printed perfection. The desire to take an image and make it my own, mark by mark. The images I make now are entirely my own, the boundaries self-imposed systems of drawn and printed information guided by ordered thought and unfiltered emotion.
First and foremost, these images live a formalist life. They are expressions of color, line, and composition. Created out of a need to establish order by any means necessary, the result is a network of visual systems that live in fear of chaos, but are nonetheless infiltrated by its seductive nature.
Secondly, each mark made is an artifact of a process, a visual record of time spent. The repetitive nature of the mark making and the effort inherently involved allows me the necessary satisfaction in the completion of an image; it is the justification of a ritual. (Ritual -n. an inflexible, stylized and often repetitive sequence of actions that may indicate an obsession)
While each mark is an automatic response to the mark made before it, the insidious autobiographical nature of my work, which addresses issues of identity and dislocation, inevitably impacts the overall content and construction of these images.