I believe that art is the best way/place to lie. The idea is monstrous. Ideas, forms and modes of making, intersect parallel and contradict themselves. The inner hegemony of authorship binds them together forcing new meaning, ingredients for the distillery.
I create, engaging in aesthetic activity regardless of where it may take me. Pieces become parts, parts become whole and I am left with monsters. Good, bad, liar’s fools and saints, they believe, and lose faith, in themselves and each other. The homunculus does not exist. I love, hate cherish and despise each piece on its own merit, a relationship that allows me to work in a committed, melancholy mode of madness.