My concerns as a sculptor are with the transformation of found objects that resonate with imagined histories, and that embody transient notions of gender, utility and fashion of their place in time. Tobacco pipes, household tools, gloves and shoes are items that have served my intent, sometimes in combination with an idiom of repurposed materials such as wood, rope, sawdust, sand and hair.
I’m especially interested in artifacts of leather clothing, always so rapidly outmoded and abandoned to thrift shops, and always bearing the imprints of their successive incarnations. The pores, wrinkles and scars of the animals whose hides were tanned are perceptible beneath the stains and smudges, the lingering odor of perfume or tobacco smoke left by the garments' owners.
I split the garments along their seam lines into the separate components of their patterns. Sometimes I boil the pieces to shrink and stiffen them and to slightly wreck their surface, and then nail them to a board to dry. I assemble the aggregate of parts into repeating motifs in which the individual elements display unique characteristics or personalities, essences to be layered under my own interventions like memories. The more fragile works are sewn to muslin grounds. The tougher skins are stitched to thin plywood mounts; the bones under the mounted skins are wooden armatures or cleats.
My art currently resides in the process of applying ages-old domestic alchemies—cooking things with boiling water, altering hand-me-downs to look brand new—to encroach into territories of large-scale figurative abstraction.