Where does the land end, and where does the art begin.

This land and community is such an inspiration. From the boulders, to the sand, Joshua trees, to watching two Red tails sore overhead and being completely cracked open from it. This inspiring land definitely informs my work.

I'm fascinated by the slow decomposition of wood that I find on my hikes. It is as if they are consumed by an invisible fire, a fire that takes generations to fully absorb. Burning so slowly that we cannot perceive it. I have the same fascination with metal as it rusts. The toll the Mojave takes on bricks and even the mighty boulders.

So there is definitely a strong connection what nature and it's organic structures in my work. It's not that I'm simply copying the forms and textures, rather, I wish to understand the reasons which lay beneath the surface of the worn landscapes.

I have a daily fascination with different materials, textures, light and shadow, smooth to rough, the sky to rock. the slick movement of wet clay, from a fixed form to a collapsed form. The texture of wood. the texture of water. the moment you see the shape of wind through dust or grass. the folds of fire in the sky through a partly cloudy sunrise.

The smell of creosote in the desert rain.

The difference of texture from the top side of a leaf to the bottom side of a leaf. The feeling of leaning into the warm winds of summer... the questions left unanswerable from asking why? These and more are what inform my palette. I've always been an out-of-the-box thinker, and I'm grateful to be self-educated.

What informs me is my inspiration. I have not been taught what to think – I would rather respond to the nature of materials and search for life in the work.