I am a compulsive collector of things that have potential. My studio is filled with materials I'm sure are magical- pink lumber, gold vinyl fabric, a baby pool shaped like a crab, scraps of acrylic paint peeled from the insides of jars. I'm partial to shiny stuff, bright colors, and everyday things from the dollar store. Most of these suggest a narrative, or have a contradictory quality- a deflated smiley face balloon at half mast, or a pile of cassette tape strewn in the grass, imagined as a mix tape tossed out the window after a break up. A similar tension occurs in my paintings. I use disparate materials such as spray paint, linen, craft items, and thick, decadent acrylic sprinkled with glitter. Sometimes the paintings are sculptural, or used as shelves to hold other paintings. Mostly, their marks hover in between spaces, inviting you in, only to flatten back out. My most recent paintings include a reflective holographic film, surrounded by hazy aerosol and poured house paint. I refer to these paintings as portals they are reminiscent of archways and tunnels. As one approaches the painting, the film reflects a disrupted image of oneself, an entry point to an alternative, far away space.