Most of my work begins with an accident—a thin watercolor wash poured and then left to dry or ball bearings covered in ink and rolled across a surface. Then, given the marks left by that action, I react. I use paper because it reflects the entire process of the work, becoming bent, uneven or curled. Though actually quite durable, paper seems so delicate and precarious when placed on the wall on its own. The simultaneous spontaneity and permanence of the materials make it impossible to revise or recreate any particular form so that each begins to take on individual characteristics.

Everything around us and in us can be broken down into raw matter. From that matter, anything can be created. The “trading cards” pieces illustrate the principle of working in a small finite space by making choices and having each choice lead to a unique outcome. I think of these cards as little representations of different possibilities. They all show forms that are familiar but unrecognizeable. The glassine envelope helps to obscure the direct image, mimicking our own inability to see clearly the larger picture of our lives.