About Me

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“I am not sure what pieces of me remain on the boiling asphalt in front of my home; that day I ruined a pair of shoes.”

A list of things that are true:
- My work should be enjoyed by the child and caveman inside of you (they’re usually smarter than you)
- I write (to) people like myself: flawed, inconvenient, slovenly beasts. They are real, no matter their circumstances or quirks, I know they are a part of you and me
- To make something is better than nothing at all

I create for tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, in the hopes you meet me where I was and I have met you where you will be. My work is for the eldest children, the queer, the downtrodden, the burdened, the disabled, the poor, the distraught, the ostracized, the unwell. We must use our words because too often they’re used against us. Like our identities, our art is taken, twisted, transmuted into something for someone else. So we must resist, make things our own way, and refuse to be transformed against ourselves.

Perhaps that is why I began to create, out of the impulse that unless I was existing on a stage, page, or memory-card somewhere, I wouldn’t be considered worth living.

The things I place into art and into these fabricated souls of mine are from my childhood, adolescence, and blossoming adulthood. It’s the combination of Yellowstone rocks you drew on leaving “more than footprints,” the rapid whizzing of street lamps in car windows, and the first time you realize you’re smoking a filter and not a cigarette anymore. These memories are particular, unsatisfying, and fleeting, but you’ll do your best to remember them fondly anyways. The way they fit together above all the rest, the tapestry of your conscience, is your story.

To know yourself fully is to live simultaneously. I hope to create simultaneously.