Stools too small and crooked to sit on. Cabinets missing walls. Swings too high to swing in. Foods preserved with inedible pieces of writing. I tend to make things that are one or two steps removed from useful. I build objects with the materials, forms and craft of woodwork, and I destablize them by removing, locating, or combining in unfamiliar ways.

Sorting a pile of rice. Hearing a family story about a bundle of unsent letters. My art making process begins with detailed personal experiences, but the finished works speak more generally. As James Joyce observed: “In the particular is contained the universal.” Some experiences stick more than others, and after a period of unstructured contemplation and free association, the stickiest experiences begin to find form on the sketchpad.

Repetition is the mainstay of my making process. I make full scale drafts. I rehearse cuts before I make them, then I make the same cuts over and over. I make too many copies so I can choose between them. Repetition gives me many chances to see the work and my hand in it more clearly.