I started throwing paint for therapeutic reasons. It offered a healthy means to feel (again), and was a pattern interrupt from what had become my norm: breaking rules, contracts, and wedding china, to find my way out of a past that was ill-designed. I threw streams of paint at canvases and practiced messing up until I realized the layers of paint that hugged the canvases like a straitjacket, produced images and shapes that required a sort of lifting up. Often these shapes take the form of the female body and visage, posed to both take on and embrace the world around her. Other times, the piece remains abstract. Every time, the final composition takes on a life of its own.

This process of the inanimate becoming organic fascinates me. If I get out of my own way – out of Its way – the series of mistakes I’ve made on purpose are resurrected into something sacred and alive.