The simple truth is that I make to discover what I do not know.
The second truth is that I strive to make shaky ambiguous things, whose imbalance and openness exemplify my belief in an unstable world. The third truth is that, to me, the things that I make, once constructed, seem out of time, like words spoken softly that hang strangely in the air accruing more meaning the longer they stay aloft.

I know that I must rely on language to easily achieve my daily goals; this however is not done without some degree of animosity. I view language with the specific disdain one holds for an unrepentant liar. This is the reason I relish the ambiguous object, which defies a name. Something that is almost this and almost that leads to new places and because it is not this and not that it is a new thing, which exists for a novel instant outside of language.

My hope is that I can make items that have a capacity to act, objects that shimmer with possibility under scrutiny, and things that enhance our perception after our backs have been turned to them.