Never do I intend to underestimate what can become of a piece of paper. For the past several years, paper has seduced me into its employ, with assistance from paint, string, wire and occasionally office, hardware and millinery supplies. It’s hard to pin down exactly why working with such humble materials proves irresistible. In part I think it’s their flexibility, helping to produce my intimate versions of order in the universe. They cooperate. To me they also are beautiful.
Simplicity carries over into the fundamental forms I choose: circle, sphere; square, cube; triangle, cone. As a student of classical piano, I find intriguing parallels between the elaboration of a melodic theme and that of a geometric form, both of which can be reinvented and intensified in a dozen rhythmic variations, all closely related, never identical. These pieced and constructed paper works move between two and three dimensions, change scale, rely on basic forms and saturated palette, invent patterns, cultivate surfaces, and often occur in series. I ask my work what change is worth making from one statement to the next.
Over time, I have developed a formal vocabulary and set of techniques that tries to exercise the same economy of means, attention to detail and flavorfulness that I reach for in everyday life. Working within these clear boundaries offers what seem to me endless opportunities/possibilities for exploration, discovery and expression. Now I want to further exploit this vocabulary with more imaginative freedom to serve bigger ideas.