I find myself preoccupied with the structure and the surface of forms, and with the space those forms make evident in manmade architecture and the natural architecture of earth and rock. I also reflect on movement across those surfaces — the hidden logic of the intuitively chosen — paths of humans, of water and wind, vines and roots, and cracks — and the natural forces that determine those paths.
Subtle changes and nuances in the surfaces of forms bear witness to the geneticist C. H. Waddington's description of organic form — the result of the interaction of many different forces. "The internal (and external) tensions are balanced against one another into a stable configuration — or rather, nearly balanced, since the configuration is destined slowly to change as development proceeds (or time passes)." It is always a dynamic equilibrium that speaks of a past and implies a future. In a similar way, unrelated metal scraps of varied colors and forms, which have been forced together to form large cubes for recycling, speak of a past as the very act of recycling implies a future. This is also true of huge bales of paper ready to be recycled.
The passage of time can vary greatly from site to site, and there's a magic about the processes and forces these sites make evident: the erosion of rock over millennia by wind and water; the sand patterns created in a matter of hours by the movement of ocean waves; and the second-to-second changes in the billowing wrappings of buildings under construction — evidence of the tension of the fabric with its tethers pitted against the wind. The open space that surrounds these places contains the potential for fullness; the energy of forces that we can only see the traces of through erosion, growth, decomposition and accretion. The results of compression on randomly combined metal scraps for recycling, while creating new and varied cubic forms, also exhibit the relative tensile strengths of the combined metals.
In my work I am concerned with the forms, textures and patterns that bear witness to these forces. I hike in the canyons of the Southwest and walk on Cape Cod beaches, observing and experiencing patterns on rocks and sand. I also study the forms and surfaces of ancient architecture and of the shrouds of city buildings under construction today, noting similarities in surface and form among them all. At paper recycling sites I find forms of stacked paper bales create mesas and canyons that appear so similar to the landscape of the Southwest. Similarly, at metal recycling sites the stacks of metal cubes recall the ancient pyramids and ziggurats of Egypt and the ancient Near East.
Finally, in looking for connections and relationships between things in the world, I have become fascinated by the "Theory of Everything," or String Theory, that a number of physicists ascribe to as they attempt to prove that the same vibrating loops of string are at the root of all matter and energy. It so beautifully connects the vastness of the universe with all things.