House on Masters Street
My eccentric father’s obsession with building spaceships out of scrap metal in the backyard often led to disastrous results, forcing our family to move again and again, one step ahead of trouble. Finding he’d set the field on fire with his careless use of an acetylene torch or that our TV had been pawned for a sheet of aluminum was not uncommon. My work has been about telling stories of the uncanny. For me, life has been simultaneously humorous and dysfunctional, marked by the banal struggle to pay bills and the visionary ambition to change the future. The value of memory is the awareness that one can reform the present. I make work that raises discussions and allows for transcendence beyond the centered self.
