Through my work, narratives of the body and memory are explored. I work intuitively, I do not plan ahead- whether through the dripping of the ink or revealing mistakes I make, I am interested in chance, in revisions and failures. Dense, repetitive rhythms of figuration are combined with pattern. My drawings explore all possibilities of motion in the body through the overlapping movements of one figure. I use the fluidity of ink and line to address the layering and duality of memory. In intricate ink drawings, overlapping figures create patterns, upon closer inspection you notice erotic and disturbing happenings beneath the surface. An abstract wood grain pattern mesmerizes you, and then you notice the fossilized girl buried inside of it. In the series "Swimmers" the act of drawing becomes an obsessive ritual, like a child determined to figure something out. The page is filled with swimmers, some practicing their dives, others undressing one another. Some of the girls refuse to swim, curled up like beetles on their backs; others stretch in contortionist poses, while others collide with each other in their eagerness to dive.

While in my ink drawings I was inventing landscapes and narratives using the body, I am currently investigating memory more directly. Houses and places I have lived are mapped out; pet graveyards, wooden floors, and dysfunctional family events are drawn in equally intricate detail. In my most recent work, "The Order of Things," I painted various scenes from my childhood, including everything I could remember- an important part of my practice is story telling, recalling sometimes tragic but also humorous narratives and attempting to reconcile my past. I grew up in many different places, from the woods of Pennsylvania to the tropical heat of Miami, but the antique furniture, oriental carpets, and folk art my parents collected were always brought along and rearranged. As a child I often felt uncomfortable and alienated, I was the quiet observer and secret keeper: in this work I tried to recall each room and the events that occurred there. In one unsettling but funny scene in "The Order of Things" I depict the time my uncle asked my twin sister and I to decorate his entire body in red, yellow, and blue office stickers. In my memory, he is a polka-dotted man sitting cross-legged in his underwear on the living room floor. In another scene I remember one of my worst memories of elementary school- a teacher who called me a “tattle-tail” and made me stand on top of a chair wearing a paper tail. It was difficult to combine so many varied narratives and colors into one painting and the overall affect is like a quilt. Indoor and outdoor, playgrounds and backyards, living rooms and greenhouses, blankets, piles of clothing, furniture and forests: an accurate portrayal of the things I remember and the things I don’t, the chaotic and the playful, the catastrophes and the adventures of my childhood.