My practice is based on an experience that all humans share, the act of closing our eyes. When the eyes are closed, patterns, colors, and shapes begin to emerge from black. All of this happens within less than 1/16 of an inch. It is a surface of infinite potential. The phenomenon of seeing has influenced me to make black reflective paintings that also have the ability to see or possess vision.

I make pictures that satisfy my curiosity in aesthetics and found materials. Combining these articles with reappropriations of my own work allows me to employ past patterns and marks as prompts for new structures and environments. The aggressive process used to construct these secretive spaces is kept in balance with the consciousness of knowing when to stop.

Emerging from a place of pixelated edges and backlit wire-framed spaces, my work engages with the resistance of an impenetrable surface. The formal structure of digital space and the peculiar landscapes and theoretical environments of video games and operating systems provide me with an access point to visual architectures unique to my digitally enmeshed moment in history.

The social contract of public spaces allows us to see another human being as only a figure in space. This is unreasonable to me. My paintings have become me thinking about people through the act of painting. My goal in revisiting people I have sketched in public spaces is to paint them as people with complex subjectivities and beautiful lives. Each person I encounter is so much more than a figure in space. When we feel invisible, as in a public space, we don’t put on a show for anyone, and can appear to one another as a series of potentialities. The narratives

I approach fabric as language, sewing together layers of silk, revealing the translucent and reflective qualities of antique kimonos, dead-stock suit linings, and European tie fabrics.

My textiles are untangled from the burden of craft and the limitations of domestic projects. Each piece is a story—silk sentences punctuated with thread.

In television production vernacular, “easter eggs” are coy inside jokes or special features situated in widely consumed media. This is precisely how I structure my ornate and highly chromatic paintings. My launchpads for these geometric abstractions and woodworked shaped panels are those of the gaymer, the sissy, and the fan boy. Quotes from Sex in the City, subplots from the enigmatic TV show Lost, background patterns from Super Mario, and other relished source materials underpin this formalist play. In my recent Death Swish series, installations of paintings pay

The majority of my work can be seen as an effort to weave together the disparate accounts of my own experiences and observations, filtered through the lens of a personalized cartoon language. Over time, I have found myself drawn to various populist mediums— such as murals, books, and printmaking—as different arenas to employ a dense web of grotesque cartoon imagery. This pictorial strategy is employed to address both personal and historical narratives.

My paintings are an appreciation of ordinary, often unseen moments in our everyday lives. My recent subjects are city scenes or landscapes; it fascinates me that finding inspiration is as simple as taking a walk.

My favorite paintings start and end fast. Beginning with a quick layout of value and colors, I try to stick with a simple palette and broad, gestural strokes to preserve the original, spontaneous inspiration of the piece.

My thoughts and artistic process tend to push materials and logic to their extremes, to the point where the material or the logic reaches a surprising and absurd conclusion. Stacking, gravity, and the confines or edges of the rectangle have been recurring themes in my work for several years. I think of substrates (and paintings in general) not just as windows but also as literal supports and pedestals for the paint. In some pieces, I use substrates referencing minimalist sculptures only as supports to be decorated with shit-shaped oil paint. I squeeze paint

In this ongoing series, I layer pieces of paper and fuse them together to form a three-dimensional whole. I begin by painting and printing open fields of color onto individual pieces of paper, which I then randomly glue together, creating a rectangular stack that I tear into by hand. As I tear into the piece, color combinations emerge, creating a spontaneous composition derived from a subtractive process. The tearing allows indentations or negative space to form, which become the focal points.