Growing up in the sweatshops of the Los Angeles apparel industry with my dysfunctional family has become the thread that flows through the story in my work. Elements dreams, childhood memory, and the materials from the garment manufacturing trade creep into my artwork as a type of redemption, and I see my work as an argument for reality.
My ideas and concepts are like a sarcastic documentation stemming from emotions rather than analytical schemes. My process is mostly instinctual and I risk being bare and vulnerable in my work, incorporating narratives as bits of paradoxical truths that reveal the psychological angst and trepidation I wrestle with. For me, art becomes a methodical, visionary activity in which to distract myself from all the bullshit I’ve had to encounter, and a saving grace I use to reconstruct what wasn’t.