Talent and art are two separate entities; talent can be taught through training and repetition, art comes from within, it’s much more magical. For me it’s a blessing and a curse; it’s the polar opposites that tug at my soul, the medication that cures me all while creating a monstrous addict. Being an artist is a 24/7 thinking process that never shuts off; it steals away my time, it saturates my thoughts, it sabotages my relationships, it creeps in to my job during the day, it spies on me at night while I dream. Being an artist dresses me, it decorates my home, it coordinates my Monday through Friday, it’s my psychiatrist giving me the insight I so desperately desire. For an artist, most of what we observe and experience is a constant critique, a continual dissection that leads to inspiration or opposition of tangled thoughts. Everything we experience we critique, we take apart, we interpret, we absorb. I will never view the world as I once did before I submerged myself in such a field.
My work, both playful and sensual, embodies a fantasy of sexual tumult tempered by an obsessive fixation to control. It is succulent yet precise; flamboyant yet restrained. It would be best characterized as obnoxiously elegant; sleek, dramatic and unabashedly flirtatious.
Influences of my art include; personal penchant, Pop culture, the dramatic depictions in comics, the functionality of package and industrial design, the stability of architecture, the constant change in fashion, the repetition in fabric patterns, the familiarities of furniture interaction, and the fluid nature of performance art.