When I walk into a thrift store, my favorite place to look for materials, I become a predator who prays on the weak and lonely, seeking a chance to strike a bargain for inferior objects to be reborn in my studio.

Numerous acquired fragments lay out on my studio table, like clues to a murder, energizing my eyes and brain. I am a detective who discovers intrinsic connections between the objects, ones which only I can see.

When two or more disparate pieces join together across time, culture, discipline, and even death as if they have never been separated, I transfix in reverie. I shed tears like a parent on her child’s wedding, praising the bliss of fate.
This is a redemption of the past, a romance between objects, and a symphony for integration.