Like an interloper waist-deep in the trappings of middle-class America, I revel and flail in a culture I can barely comprehend. Compelled to witness and participate in festive rituals which often confuse hi-jacked pageantry with sincerity, gluttony with plentitude, and convenience with catharsis, I am skeptical of being swept along . It’s hard not to become disillusioned ….and YET… I often find myself absurdly seduced by the grand displays, trinkets and ephemera.  I want to believe, at the core of them, is a true hungering for impossibly pure joy and connection along with the glittering memories which may carry us in moments of upheaval.

Clashing discarded party or occasional ephemera with hygienic implements, nostalgic textiles and black humor, my pieces often take forms of make-shift shrines, biomorphic trophies or curb-side entanglements of holiday left-overs . The work has a saccharine aura: an allure of childish fantasies come-to-life .  Lush color pallets with saccharine frills and embellishments seduce the viewer with a sweet visual treat. It’s a perverse, polychromatic bribe. The sugar high crashes when, on closer inspection, a paradoxical relationship between the intention of the materials I use and the forms I give them is realized. Naive objects of childhood comfort are theatrically sexualized and cosmetically adorned. Familiar things from our daily lives appear infected or infested; organic, fungal textures made of mass-produced embellishments emerge from their crevices and creep out all over their surfaces. Household items are shown to have been dismembered, mutated, bound, or stabbed repeatedly with small swords. Paralleling the pain of losing one’s innocence, what cannot be contained is spilling out in glorious style.



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