Do the surfaces and objects that surround our private world block us, release us, or remain ambiguous? In my current work, I’m interested in the idea of the interior being a “safe space” that can also- perhaps simultaneously- become a cage. Can the very things that protect us from discomfort become the means to close us off from the world?
Installation: Love Me










The Heart Wants What It Wants
Conditions of Identity
Fieldwork
This Is Not An Interior
Where The Bodies Are Buried
Even Pressure
graphite on paper, 9×12 each
Into The Magic Mirror