I usually try to avoid discussing my work in an all encompassing way.  When I do, I feel, I’m attempting to paraphrase the essential reasons for making art - and while that may be a meaningful pursuit, it’s never finished, and it’s never succinct.  For example, I could begin by saying, my work deals with abstracting systems - rearranging, overlapping, transposing, misinterpreting, confronting, acknowledging and ignoring, bodies of knowledge, fields of understanding, of confusion, forms that have emerged into the world.  Or I could say, I’m trying not to assume, I’m trying to know when to assume, when to remember and when to forget.  None of these approaches ever seem ideal for a short statement.  At the same time, I can’t deny asking these kinds of hopelessly perpetual questions  - they are at the very heart of my work, they are part of the not knowing aspect of art that I love.  Meaning that won’t hold still.  I am most interested in what I understand a little bit, enough to sense briefly, but never enough to fully explain.  So when I think about my undertakings, while I can string together commonalities, the only enduring way of describing it as a whole seems to be, to say, that it is a nonspecific attempt at sustained curiosity.  The sort of curiosity that exists despite legitimate inputs and outputs.  The sort of curiosity that counters consistently reinforced behaviours.  And the sort of curiosity that produces the uncertainty we need for ourselves.