I've worked out of my one-bedroom apartment in Texas, my childhood home, my personal studio in New York, various warehouses, bedrooms and studios in Providence, and on the road, and as a result I have many little snapshots of transient works-in-progress and paintings scattered on every available surface to dry. Until 2014, I had to allow my studio and my residence to co-exist and serve multiple functions at once.

Some of my paintings have two entirely separate characters––one when dry and mountable as an object, very obedient and often inert; but there also exists its temporary unpredictability while the water, paint, gels, gum arabic, mica glitter and crystals are in flux, spilling into one another as micro-riverways. The milky translucent dabs of drying glue are often more tempting to me than the metallic foil applied after, as the wet glue is receptive and alive; the juiciness of rubber cement freshly applied to the board is so much more intriguing before it gums up and hardens, becoming flat.