My practice imagines what might happen if we mix-and-match the physical expression of genes – a fuzzy, plush earthworm, a human starfish with radial symmetry, or the food for a creature from another dimension. The unfamiliar may spark curiosity and laughter, or disgust and aversion. Though they may make us uncomfortable, creatures of fantasy and science-fiction each have a unique origin story to tell. I envision them in an immersive third person video game. As the operator of the controller, how much do I honor a character’s origin and objectives and how much do I impose my own creative will? There’s no decision to accept or condemn them, as I am the medium through which they interact with their environment. Their journeys, both real and fictional, reflect our own. 

At times, I act as a prop master for my own lifelong production. Installation and medium are the mise-en-scène. How do I accurately translate and effectively animate my real and imagined hybrid world? A material language starts to emerge and never stays static. It has a perpetual dynamism like that of a spoken language, always evolving in the process of its use. Texture, color, and solidity all shift translation in significant ways. From the total control of water-based clay or digital illustration, it is both challenging and relieving to be subject to mediums with differing autonomy, such as expanding foam, silicone, light, or found objects. There is a scientific method to their madness. Experimenting with various mediums, I must respect their chemical composition and interaction with touch, tools, molds, temperature, time, etc. History and origin stories of materials also inform my relationship with them. What conscious choice is made to follow or stray from tradition and how does that alter or distort its intended purpose and my own?