My work begins in the landscape…

It begins with feet moving over uneven ground, across the mountains and open spaces of Southern California, along the coastline, through the scars of wildfires, and amidst lonely deserts. It begins with the sense of openness that comes from spending time in these settings. My work arises from the landscape — not necessarily in a traditional representational sense, but rather, it uses the landscape as the vantage point from which to explore consciousness, memory, and the imagination.

Each year, for the past several years, I have covered more than 2500 miles on my feet. Human-powered movement is vital to my practice — the rapid breathing, the sweating, and the change in terrain are part of a process that opens the mind for new and unexpected encounters. In truth, the distances and locations don’t really matter. Even the shortest foray into nature — one that stays well within sight and audible range of roads, freeways, or other structures — offers the opportunity to “get lost.” Today, it’s so easy to instantly FIND anything, my work is about the power that comes from getting lost and making unanticipated discoveries along the way.

Instead of focusing solely on pristine landscapes, my work explores the growing intersection of the urban/wildland interface. New narratives arise when we witness the interactions of nature and the human world in our neighborhoods and in our own backyards — a red-tailed hawk drinking from a Rainbird sprinkler, a pack of coyotes taking up residence in a foreclosed home, a covey of quail engrossed in a conversation over a discarded packet of taco sauce — we’ve become accustomed to these juxtapositions, and I’m interested in expanding on this new visual vocabulary as it exists in concert with ancient cycles of time.