Welcome! I cleaned it up for you. I’ve regretted cleaning up, but doesn’t look so clean that there’s nothing here. There’s texture. There’s such a difficult balance between letting someone be in here without worrying about getting paint on themselves, but also accepting that that’s okay.

I actually made a rear-view mirror out of glass. It’s about an object having meaning without being iconic—a non-icon becoming an icon, and the beauty of the mundane.

It’s weird. You chose works that I’m very attached to, which made me pause. But that’s a good sign.

I did! I made candles for about two years straight. I worked on the candle in every variation I could think of—the candle as a rubbing, the candle as an image. This particular piece was really fun because I was thinking about it in terms of trompe l’oeil. This was when I started thinking about trompe l’oeil as its own effect.

It's one of two works where one is a painting and the other is a transfer. I copied the transfer as a painting and tried to replicate the dappling in paint, and this is that painting. The candle series became a way to use one motif to move through different ways of painting. That’s when things started to get more abstracted.

This textual language—painting gestures, replicating printmaking, and actual printmaking—started pushing through into other pieces. All of these works have printing elements within the painting.

Yes, I typically I use acetone.

I really liked the look of acetone, and I have access to fresh air, which makes a huge difference. I’m starting to experiment with other ways of doing transfers. For the large clock piece, I did a medium transfer, and these pieces on the easel use medium transfer—you apply the medium, then rub off the paper.

It gets very messy, but it makes for a cleaner image and a completely different effect. Now I’m experimenting with agitating the image through paint rather than through technique.

I’m in a strange place right now. I searched “sunset” in my phone because I’d been thinking about traditional symbols I was using—the hand—and how they became more abstract with tape. A lot of these images feel temporal, and that’s what drew me to them.

Now I’m photographing images on my computer, printing them out, re-photographing them, and printing them again. Then I project them onto canvases, re-photograph them, and continue the cycle.

With the clock, I didn’t want to paint a clock. I wanted to make a painting that was a clock. Now I’m thinking about movement—what is a painting that is movement? I don’t know yet. I’m very much in the middle of it.

That's where we are!

Sure. As I started using tape and letting it have its own personality, I began thinking about objects having real-world scale.

Real scale introduces something factual into the illusion of painting. Painting as a window, but with something real embedded in abstraction. That shift changed the subject matter and the experience of the work. I was thinking about perception, illusion, and how images circulate now—how you don’t know scale until you see something in person.

I liked the idea of paintings where viewers have to understand scale. The awkwardness of a hand within something larger constantly pushes you out of the illusion.

Yes but I haven’t displayed them yet. I kept lemons in the studio because studios are dry and they harden beautifully. Then I slipcast them.

I don’t know what they’re going to be yet, which is probably why they’re still here. I haven’t figured out how to part with them.

I’m not entirely sure why I keep coming back to it, but there is something about this depiction in Piero della Francesca’s The Death of Adam that really stays with me—this first expression of grief, almost unhinged, this biblical wailing. It feels raw.

What I’m drawn to is how Piero shows emotion through relationships rather than gestures alone—how figures sit in space, how scale shifts, how buildings, depth, and orientation guide you through the feeling of the scene. Every relationship is rigorously considered.