For most of my life I've been drawn to the in-between places, places between earth and sky, or between water and earth, or between sky and water and earth, those amphibious places, the places that are not really one thing and not really another thing, but always shifting back and forth.

Philosophically, western culture prioritizes binaries (the dialectic). I am less interested in binaries than in what happens between them. Everything in our world, all of the universe, oscillates. Poles or binaries compel less than the movement between them: they are just the far end of the oscillation in either direction. The frequency of oscillation dictates whether we perceive things as static or oppositional.

Consequently, I am also drawn to things that are or that situate themselves between potentially opposing forces or between opposing meanings. I like puns, because puns are always moving between two meanings, seeming to be both at once. The same with ambiguous words, or ambiguous shapes. I enjoy objects that vibrate between their perceived purpose and their design.  I feel the same way about materials and images in my work, or sculpture and practical objects. I want them to exist in two worlds, or to oscillate back and forth between different ways of looking at them or meaning in them at the same time.  

When most things I make are sculptural, why separate them into categories?  If acts of drawing, photographing, installing, designing, fabricating, sculpting, loving, and performing intermingle to produce these things, how does one decide which set they belong to? When two long-term projects of drawing and photography (Portraits and GULP) are each the residue of extended performances, why name them for the residue rather than the performance? How does an installation that is used as the location for a performance differ from a large sculpture that is used by dancers in a theater? How does a fabricating a sculpture for an artist differ from designing and producing a piece of furniture or silverware for a commissioning client? I resist these distinctions and therefore think of my work in whatever sphere it exists as part of a continuum.

I also believe in the power of ceremonial action.  Throughout our lives, we take part in rituals big and small that resonate and reverberate.   They mark passages and achievements, vows and commitments, beginnings and endings.  They can be as simple as a statement of thanks for a meal or as complex as a coronation. Sculptural objects (and that includes spaces) often help us complete the ceremony we are undertaking.  And since they remain long after the action is finished, they can also help us record and later revisit what moved us. Thoughtfully designed, handmade objects (and spaces) have the power to connect us to our rituals over time in a way that few other things can.