Language as a method is shapeshifting. Stories are told between, through, and within language, overflowing into the space around it. My personal stories materialize as fragments of experience told between the tension of flexibility and rigidity. They are site-specific maps: amalgamations of internalized, inherited, learned, and unlearned narratives. Told in the language of materiality, which is to say, the language of things, stories become a visual narration of form, color, and texture. Written in nonverbal, gestural languages of detritus, the lost and found, the made-by-hand and the machine made, the natural and the artificial, visual elements record what is both consumed and recycled, rejected, and cherished. This is not a story about beginnings, middles and ends, it is about how stories translate histories through traveling form; it is about what gets repeated and what changes over time.
The spaces between arguments, miscommunications, and repair are the spaces of gaps and transitions— indeterminate distances between here and there. The space between relationships and extended definitions are everyday routines, habits, and behaviors. Sculptures act as placeholders, mapping human gestures and mining the private body language that exists within the curious space between a foot and a fingertip.
