The world seems immeasurable. Strange fungi burst through the soil overnight, miniature landscapes of lichen grow on the steps up to my front door, alien seed pods fall from otherwise normal-looking trees, and gooey, gelatinous masses are left behind an outgoing tide.
Though these phenomena may be scientifically documented and understood, to me they are new discoveries that activate my sense of wonder and prompt me to engage in personal scientific observation and imaginative speculation.
What strange things might thrive in the depths of the ocean, in the outer reaches of our solar system, or within the human gut?
Paddling a seakayak, I am a newanimal. My legs disappear, and my lower body is composed of a sleek, 17-foot hull. My boat-body responds to the wind and waves as assuredly as my legs do to changing terrain on land.
I pay homage to the kayak, which gives me intimate access to the ocean. The kayak, in turn, pays homage to the seal. Mimicking the form of a marine mammal, and originally made from bone, sinew and sealskins, the kayak takes shape from the body.
In these sculptures I use canoe and kayak forms as literal and figurative vessels to navigate the interplay of human, animal, and landscape.
These works are a result of my fascination with the repetition of polygonal patterns throughout the natural world. From hexagonal patterned ground in the arctic that forms as a result of freeze-thaw cycles, to the geometric expression of some types of cancer cells, structural mathematics is a common thread connecting disparate life forms. This consistency of patterning on such a broad scale is logically satisfying, yet still delightfully mysterious.
The hexagon has become a framework for my experiments with landscape and change over time: hardening slip, stenciled sugar consumed by ants, sugar cookies consumed by people, melting ice, salt crystallizing on hand tools. These works use impermanent materials and are activated by chance and entropy.