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Minds are like flypaper, at least mine is. Beautiful things, unsavory things, quirky or even common things get stuck to the tacky surface. It could be a phrase or a new material, or maybe something so ugly and funky that it becomes beautiful. A little factoid or obscure detail can thrash around in the glue until it wriggles in and begins to itch and fester. Whatever it is, it’s something that I need to pull off the sticky brain-paper and consider. Making is my way to understand; to reconcile and respond, and to eventually share my observations. In the end, it boils down to this: some things simply have to be made. It’s the only way I can scratch the itch.
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Surface, microstructure, gesture-- a bump or sweet little defect: the true character of things lies in their details. Quiet, strange and intimate places define my world and I think that my work reflects that. The sharing of an idea or observation in the form of a small object is powerful in a way that other forms of expression just aren’t.
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