I had an ant infestation in my room when I was seven. Their comfort in occupying my space intrigued me. The ants have become a reflection of my own mind. I now strive to create something that confronts the intruders within.

The mind is like a home, just as the body is. Thoughts that demand heed solidified in identifiable objects and the familiarity of domestic spaces. The ephemerality of memory reflected in delicate clay and nostalgic bitter-sweetness.

My work is about paying attention.

The fleeting nature of the past is what gives it resonance.

What is lost with the passage of time?

What is to be gained?