My thinking happens through my hands.
I work primarily with yarn, string, wire, and other line-based materials, building structure from what is essentially almost nothing. A length of line becomes surface and volume through repetition, increase and decrease, sequence and pattern. What compels me is systems becoming material—the math embedded in making, a series of incremental decisions accumulating into form.
I’ve worked with fiber for decades, long enough to understand how it behaves under tension, weight, repetition, and time. That fluency is not theoretical; it was forged under real constraints—deadlines, visibility, pressure—where failure was possible and the work had to carry its own weight. Those conditions compressed the process and embedded consequence into every decision, a compression that remains present in how the work is built.
Encoding ideas directly into the work became essential early on. Meaning isn’t illustrated; it accumulates. Concept and making are inseparable—ideas are resolved through doing, through staying with material long enough for it to insist on its own terms.
The work operates across scales—from garments and discrete objects to immersive environments and installations—each demanding sustained attention to structure, weight, and space. Each project carries forward the logic of the last while increasing its physical and conceptual load. The questions remain consistent; the conditions intensify.
Detail matters. Even unseen.
Scale shifts. Magnitude changes.
The insistence remains.
I’m compelled by beauty—not as ornament or spectacle, but as something earned through attention, care, and persistence. The work continues to ask more of the material, more of the body, and more of the space it occupies. What began with a single thread now requires room to unfold.