Artist’s Statement

I have many qualms with how we all overshare details about our little lives through the Internet.
I’ve had my identity stolen, so I can only imagine what else is out there that I’ve lost track or control of. I grew up when the Internet was also growing up, so while I’ve narrowly avoided new platforms for oversharing, my life has been intertwined with enough as is. It’s all this beautiful train wreck; devices in our pockets that serve as a liberating interconnected extension of self, while also a giant vacuum of noise completely devoid of privacy.
I like to make things though, specifically I like to make things for other people.
The Internet is perfect for that. Even with publishing a couple things a year, it takes months for the process of bringing something to print or market to be complete. We’re all guilty of the instant gratification drug that is social media. In a way, it’s the perfect medium for sharing art, even if the audience so quickly moves on. Once it’s out there, it’s out of your hands and it’s time to make something new.
I thrive in changes, whether it’s my appearance or the project I’m working on or the space in the world I’m living in—I need movement. The Internet provides me that luxury. The Internet is constant movement.
I do prefer the physical, even just to visit a museum or library. I write in cursive with a heavy weighted pen on recycled paper that I carry everywhere in my bag. I sew my clothing, I sketch ideas on the backs of my hands if not on scraps of paper crumpled in my pocket. The feeling of holding a book I’ve written for the first time, perfect bound with soft cream pages that smell better than sun warmed autumn wind, is unmatched.
But you all aren’t in this room with me, I can’t share this physical moment with you without this screen between us. You’re here, on the Internet, scrolling through my photos and reading my poems. If I’m lucky, something you’ve come across here has made you pause. Made you feel something, or remember something else. For that, I can ignore the mild nausea from the unknown of who will someday use these words and photos to tell whatever story they decide. For that, I feel deep gratitude, and want to sincerely thank you for taking a moment to share my art with me.