I’m particularly fascinated by family homes as microcosms of identity—spaces where generational and individual values are woven into the shared environment, each piece of decor contributing to a collective story. I collect discarded and displaced objects from within these domestic spaces—-whether retrieved from curbsides or passed on by friends who are decluttering—and transform them into mysterious new forms. By combining familiar surfaces of rescued objects—-formerly-meaningful things like holiday decorations, handmade blankets, forgotten toys, worn sweaters, outdated upholstery, and vintage fixtures, along with non-descript, mass-produced functional items—-my sculptures offer these outcasts a new environment to transcend their shortcomings and collaboratively flourish.

While the color palettes in my work often draw from escapist tropes in romance and fantasy genres, the writhing, tactile quality within the forms embodies an awkward beauty that reflects life in flux. These forms appear self-protective—simultaneously embracing and smothering themselves—evoking the shapes of vines, skeletons, or cages. The dense textures, reminiscent of wondrous biological growth, mirror the shifting nature of memory, which morphs with each recall, spurred by unexpected sensory encounters and constantly mutating over time.

Encountering familiar, nostalgic surfaces within these intricate, alien forms encourages viewers to slow down, take notice, and reflect on their own experiences. It invites them to recognize the interconnectedness of their lives with those around them.