​When objects or materials reach for something other than their intended means, poetry occurs. I take notice of this, this is, in part, what sculpture is to me. My involvement is similar to the embankment of a river. The river flows, and I do not wish to stop this, but I have a need to build on its shores, to live there to enjoy sitting on a bank and washing my feet.

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My interest lay’s where things touch. This isn’t ornament. It’s not part of the architecture. I work with my hands, it’s quite simple; I work with my hands to make sense of material. Between object, poetry and utility is a tension, similar to that between drawing and sculpture. The mark of something acting on another is interesting and it is poetry. A chair is a complicated thing, it’s a moment when representation and function collapse into each other, its bisexual and universal, it causes comfort and discomfort. The potential of it as a sculpture is basic, maybe dangerously basic, when you sitting in it is impossible to look at as an artwork and when you’re looking at it you’re not sitting in it.