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 that only serve the marsh birds for perches, and a foundation of steel for  homes of wasps and hornets. Like a lame tempest these white, industrial forms protect their fictitious coasts, which are not defined by where rock meets salt and air, but by the absolute most monetary value of an individual. For years I have seen the influx of people on the coast. Massive stacks of red pine landmark new domestic cul de sacs. This all have impacted my creative practice greatly. My work and practice mimics that of an invasive species. My work is a lot like a huckleberry, tall sharp bows, splattered by bunches of bright red berries, reaching and expanding up towards the sun and over surrounding vegetation. They are objects that would not normally 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 sea water.