I tell stories, real life stories about my experiences: what I have done, what I have seen, and what I have heard. I do not necessarily convey these experiences factually. Instead, I dress them up with elaborate fabrications some would call lies.
I use images of animals such as ducks, fish, cats, squirrels, doves, dragons, and storks with inanimate natural objects such as ponds, trees, leaves, clouds, and plants. I pull these images from my memories and experiences, taking them out of their original context and recreating them in scenes that seem to be parts of larger stories. None appears to be rooted in truth. Things are extremely exaggerated and obscured to a point where they no longer function as representations of things of this world. I tell these lies for one reason only: the truth about my life just isn’t interesting enough.
The scenes in my sculptures are open-ended and intentionally devoid of a clear chronological sequence. One scene does not logically follow another. Rather, my works function as three-dimensional snapshots of an extended, perhaps endless mystery story. This allows for each of my pieces to have conversations between and among their counterparts.
Although my sculptures appear to render truthfulness ridiculous, they are intended to provoke real human feelings and emotions such as confusion, defeat, joy, nostalgia and wonder. Many of my animals and inanimate objects are therefore given human characteristics.
My well-crafted, candy-coated, sexy-colored works seduce viewers into focusing on the beauty of the objects themselves. Analysis is always secondary.
I am not interested in telling a boring true-life story loaded with meanings and lessons. I am more of a pleasure seeker. I tell stories that captivate and amuse, stories that make viewers want to come back for even better sequels.
And more I will tell, because there are not enough interesting things in this world. Slowly but surely, my works fill this need.