With the written word, I am often eloquent and articulate. With the spoken word, I usually put my big, fat foot in my big, fat mouth. With my artwork, I am able to poetically represent my endless thoughts and random obsessions. In an attempt to understand the mysteries of my mind and to grasp a sense of reality from a bundle of unrealistic judgments, I struggle to build my imagination.
One body of work relies on combining visual metaphors, to examine issues of self-esteem, interpersonal relationships and the way that I am perceived and received. I do so by blending the nostalgic associations of vernacular objects, the physical properties of construction materials and precisely chosen words or poignant one-liners.
The more recent work marks a change in the direction of my studio practice.
I count things. It’s a problem I learned from my father. I analyze my daily life, including data such as weight loss and gain, food eaten, hits on blogs, comments and likes on facebook, miles ran or walked.
The data then drives the modeling of 3-dimensional form, but I intentionally avoid creating clearly recognizable infographics. Each new series depicts the same data in multiple ways – allowing the numbers to inform the imagery, but not control the form. The technique behind this work involves three-dimensional modeling programs to build the digital masses, that are eventually frozen as drawings, sometimes re-animated for the viewer, sometimes digitally composited and occasonially 3-d printed.
I do not rely on algorithms or generative programs to sculpt space. Using the data, I maneuver the geometry by manually controlling the size of each section, until I am satisfied with the result. Although my process is systematic, it is not random. There are many experiments that live on only in my computer because I deem their formal qualities awkward. Data and design decisions can sometimes lead to clumsy proportions, unreadable twists, and dead-end corners. In the work that survives, relative quantity becomes clear as scales shifts and components spike.
The entire process of data collection, documentation, and interpretation serves as a substitute for my memory as I continually revisit my past.