I make things that are designed to come apart. My practice spans ceramics, sculpture, installation, painting, and printmaking, but the medium is always chosen by the idea, never the other way around. I am a conceptually driven artist, which means that clay, plaster, concrete, reclaimed wood, rusted metal, and paper are not a toolkit I rotate through. They are specific responses to specific questions. Each material holds memory differently, resists control differently, and breaks down on its own terms. That behavior is not something I work against. It is the work.

For the last several years I have been investigating entropy as both a material process and a way of understanding political and cultural instability. I am interested in what breakdown reveals, not as catastrophe but as reorganization. The systems we assume to be permanent are already coming apart, and that coming apart has something to teach us about what the appearance of order was hiding.

I think of my materials as collaborators rather than obedient surfaces. The entropic behaviors of clay, plaster, and metal are not side effects I manage. They are active participants with their own tendencies and timelines. When a surface cracks, bubbles, or erodes, it is contributing to the conversation. My role is to set conditions and then pay attention.

Underneath all of this is a set of philosophical concerns: how power structures embed themselves in material culture, how dominant narratives calcify and fracture, and where art positions itself in relation to systems under pressure. I draw on thinkers like Lyotard, Simmel, and Jane Bennett, but the real thinking happens in the studio, where the materials talk back.