L'hérédité n'est pas ce qui passe par la fêlure, elle est la fêlure elle-même : la cassure ou le trou, imperceptibles.

Heredity is not what passes through the crack, it is the crack itself: the break, the hole, imperceptible.

— Gilles Deleuze, Logique du sens (1969)

I build with material that already carries a past: used clothing, yard sale tools, discarded furniture, stolen moments, lost time. Collecting, disassembling, rearranging, and rebuilding this material isn't a metaphor, it's the complete form and content of the work. Scratches, cracks, cuts, jump cuts, and missed focus stay legible as evidence, traces of a life that once existed outside the piece.

My practice is rooted in a West Coast, blue-collar identity: seven schools by the seventh grade, a preacher's-kid childhood, a fiercely loyal small-town crew, sons of military men and shipyard workers. That world is filtered through classical training in drawing and painting, direct mentorship from Mike Kelley, Stephen Prina, and Jeremy Gilbert-Rolfe, and twenty years as a commercial designer, three lenses that taught me nothing arrives neutral.

The result isn't a resolved object, it's an open one, caught between what the material was, what I've done to it, and what it could become. Memory, identity, and history aren't subjects I illustrate. They're the literal content and structure of the work.