My work uses the formal boundaries of furniture making, its methods, and its philosophies as a guidepost for making. It is my trade and most fluent physical language. The journey of a utilitarian object used as inspiration, it’s subjection to a process of beautification, and finally its return back to utilitarian object is one I find recurring in my work.

As a recovering addict, I am fascinated by how a specific fondness can develop like a callous over the splinter of a difficult memory. In my practice I begin with the objects often utilized as the improvised furnishings of my past, and, through a process of remembering and reinvention, reproduce them in a heightened state of luxury. In a way it feels like the gentrification of a memory, increasingly precious and enticing, yet ultimately far less crucial and honest. I often think about this work as way of telling lies. As the hours required to produce these objects pass, a false myth develops around them offering a preciousness unwarranted by the past they represent.

I find humor in the fallibility of the human memory, and the lengths we go to in order to strengthen our perceived narratives. In response to this my process becomes a gesture of misplaced effort, but I do not find this work to be sad or futile, more so a cathartic reconciliation with the permanence of the past. The goal is not to be the thief of joy but, instead, maybe, to examine its foundation.