One of the joys of looking at art is when something in the work sparks a fire of recognition just beneath my heart. This flash of personal understanding is powerful – it is like a shared memory. It makes me laugh for joy, sometimes it makes me cry, and always it makes me think. It is usually small and unexpected elements that evoke this reaction – a slight crack, patched and re-cracked at the edge of a sculpted wrist, a look of longing in the eyes of someone in a photographed crowd, a color subtly peeking from underneath its complement… These experiences are intimate and deep. And they provide me with abiding goals for my own work. I want to tell the stories that exist under the surface – to make the unseen, seen. I want to re-experience the intimacy of shared secrets. I want to parse the truth that exists in façade. And when this magic works, it leads me (and I hope for viewers to come along with me) on an exploration of fleeting dreams and intimate logic, that opens a door to the place where sense and non-sense meet.