Herbaceous, 2019, 6′ x 11′ x 5′, wood, steel, paint, plastic, found material

           In New England everything is owned. Boundaries are marked by lines on paper and faded signs, serving only as perches for marsh birds and the foundations for the homes of wasps and hornets. Like a lame tempest, these white industrial forms protect these fictitious coasts. Boundaries are not defined by where rock meets salt and air, but by the monetary value. For years I have seen the influx of people on the coast. Massive stacks of red pine mark new domestic cul de sacs. My work  mimics that of an invasive species.  My sculptures are like a huckleberry,  its tall sharp bows, splatters of bright red berries, reaching and expanding up towards the sun and over surrounding vegetation. They are objects which would never be provided by nature, yet made entirely from the landscape.  As time progresses found material succumbs to an artistic patina. Organic and artificial matter collapses into one another like shipwrecked men become seawater.