I collage to conjure the lights and joy of the carnival, the warmth and grandeur of the desert and the mountains, the pride of the parades, the anger and anguish of today, and that museum-quality curated clutter of my grandma’s house. A desperate attempt to intake the overwhelming everythingness of existence before it extinguishes.

The work is loud and imperfect, held together with shoelaces, bubblegum, and the will of God. In the surrealism is a kernel of earnest, relentless imperfection which rings true to our reality– where we’re making do, and we’re making it ours.

Humanity is in the imperfections and the compromise of our efforts. That’s something I love about collage is that it's an art of change— of unbecoming and becoming anew.