I Love Structure In times of uncertainty we cling to the familiar, and for me, that’s collage. My new series “I Love Structure” is a reaction to the turmoil I’ve experienced as a result of recent political and social events in the U.S. The optics of each individual collage are not obviously political; rather, with a nod at geometry, the work offers a colorful filter for making sense of the world we live in: jumbled shapes stand in for jumbled feelings, and jagged lines represent uncertainty over how to move forward. Undertaking this work on a constrained, rectangular panel creates a boundary — a structured environment where I can safely park my response to the disjointedness of this moment in history.
Summer Scaffolding: Look Up, Look Down In many places, summer is the season of construction. In San Francisco, summer construction takes on an additional dimension: construction projects are vertical more often than horizontal, requiring elaborate scaffolding systems that climb into the sky. When we look up, scaffolding systems are an urban artwork of beams and boards, pipes and plywood. When we look down, scaffolding zones are littered with debris, and form a modern day archaeological site of discarded relics of our lives. “SUMMER SCAFFOLDING: Look Up, Look Down” is a series of 50 two-dimensional works, made over 50 days for the 2016 Sanchez Art Center 50-50 show, that aim to capture the essence and imagery of all types of scaffolding by incorporating debris found on the ground below.
Containers 1 & 2 This series addresses the tensions and contrasts created when bright things are contained. Contemporary colors and patterns are trapped inside of primitive shapes, and delicate, feminine prints are enclosed within wobbly, imperfect paper borders. The colors in each contained shape appear rendered flat, as if a three dimensional object had been sliced and its bright, juicy cross section revealed. This cross section offers a powerful punch of color that is barely contained — an exploding candy in a very tight wrapper — and brings up improbable questions: Why are bright things sometimes contained? Do they have to be? What could happen if they weren’t?
My favorite part of being an artist is finding a way to distill everything I absorb from my environment — the shapes of buildings I see downtown, the light and shadows of trees in Golden Gate Park or the colors of the beach — into a small, concentrated dose of my experiences. It’s very satisfying to look at a collection of my completed collages and revisit the sensory memories contained in them, all through a filter that exaggerates the best of what I experienced or that perhaps even replaces what I actually saw, with what I wish I had seen. In my work I can make the ocean as blue as I want it to be or I can make it nearly white. I can make skyscrapers out of flower patterned wallpaper or from debris I find on the street. Through my work, can I convert reality into a slightly more optimistic version of itself.