For me, this work is precariously balanced between opposite and equal influences; influences as divergent as 1960's Pucci scarves, glorious Baroque ceiling paintings, the angular rock outcroppings of the Davis Mountains, and the memory of the comic books that I hoarded as a child.

These external sources, high and low, sacred and profane, are subjected to my stubborn manipulation until they re-emerge as something with their own invented visual logic; something which toys with perception and expectation, something which hints at instability.

They are, finally, seriously playful.