Each space that I inhabit for the act of making shape-shifts like weather. Through investigation, admiration and farming, my art reaches out for polka dancing and the distant sound of babies laughing. Somewhere Over the Rainbow is one of my favorite songs and I remember traveling to another dimension while listening to a wind-up music box version of it as a kid. I felt like Hello Kitty perched on a cloud zooming through Lucky Charms intergalactica, but feeling an overwhelming sadness for the planet earth. I always intrinsically understood crescendo, pots of gold, and Technicolor but often found myself clawing my way out of the gallows for one reason or another. From the time I was quite small, there were some things I never understood, like bad manners and litter. The kindest people felt ancient and were gone before I knew it.

My most recent work honors the infusion of light and spectrum as the vehicle for expansion and ascension. Through this exploration I have tapped into the ancient power of cats and now there are cats in my studio. My studio, as it stands today, is a makeshift time machine and incubator space for off-site projects, installations and performances, paintings and drawings, sites and shiny objects. I spend a lot of time thinking about Albert Einstein. I keep coming back to an opera by Philip Glass called Einstein on the Beach. It's a story about Einstein's life journey, filled with impossibly long courtroom trials, repeating endurance dances, spaceship interventions, and at the end, two unnamed characters who finally find love on a park bench, with their bodies touching, holding hands in the moonlight. The end of this opera is close to perfection. This is what I want my art to be.