My current body of work attempts to queer the landscape through the use of self-similar patterns, awkward shapes, and vibrant color relationships. I want to create moments of disorientation and disruption, where the assumed logic, expectation, and assumption of space, slowly—or not so slowly—unravels. Or implodes. And explodes.

I typically begin my work by creating rubbings from various personal, found, and/or discarded objects. Some of those objects include old milk crates from my late father’s car, heating vents in my home, the wood grain from my studio floor. I’m continually fascinated by the rubbings because of their unpredictability, indexical nature, and strong allusions to topography. The ghostly imprints that the rubbings generate are ultimately jammed together—and in concert—with other patterns and passages in order to suspend different moments in/of time. Ultimately, these combinations conjure environments that enable me to process, organize, and navigate my lived experiences and daily negotiations as a queer person.