About

My work examines the distance between what people say they value and what they are willing to preserve. What a culture carries forward is evidence of what it has decided matters. What it allows to disappear is evidence as well.

I work across painting, installation, found language, and participation. The work begins with what is easily overlooked: handwriting, discarded objects, private appeals, familiar symbols. I change their scale, duration, or context. What was peripheral becomes unavoidable.

KEPT begins with a fact I can’t put down. Prayer may be the largest body of writing human beings have ever produced, and almost none of it has been kept. It was never addressed to us. It is written in private, in a person’s own hand, with no audience, and in a culture of performed lives it may be the last honest speech we have. Most of what is written down is gone within weeks.

In KEPT, I paint handwritten prayers that strangers have agreed to let me keep, exactly as written, on raw linen at a scale we reserve for what we want to last. Nothing is corrected. No one is named. The hand is the person. The original tag remains with the painting.

I make them because I believe these words were already kept. Preservation is not neutral. To place something in a collection, a museum, or a home is to authorize its continuation.

A prayer begins alone, but it was never meant to end there. Amen is the oldest word we have for agreeing with someone else’s. On the wall, a stranger’s prayer is not on display. It is waiting for the rest of us to say amen.