Process: The stuff of these pieces is composed of melted Crayola crayons. I use a variation of small torches to melt the crayon down onto the canvas in various ways. Most of the pieces are awfully time intensive with lots of pacing about, walking in quite a number of circles, and good bit of hunched over breath holding. The work is made moss-like with a very slow overtaking of negative space.

Notion: I see these works as an homage to that restless creative energy that runs through this whole world, that is, in fact, this world. An ode to that feral truth that every thing is in a constant state of creation in one way or another.

Outside, right now, that hillside over there is stretching itself out of the the ground slowly reaching upwards. The earth spins, gravity cups us in its hands while the sun burns and the moon rolls around us. Dust in the corners gets to dancing by little breezes as water endlessly pours itself down these mountains and rocks slowly but steadily shed their layers, making new sand and smoother coats for themselves. There's some innate movement in everything around us...little blooms of thingness everywhere.

If we could step back far enough and take a look at this world we've found ourselves in, i think we would see it as if through a wild kaleidoscope perpetually recreating itself in new shapes and forms. When i think about the world in this way, looking at each thing as something that "it" is doing, the universe appears infinitely inventive, inimitably artful and hungry as hell to express itself in every little way it can.

This 'desire' or 'will', but really just the nature of the circumstances, which causes everything to fill a static void with action and

movement, is running through us too, of course, as we're just one more little manifestation of it. Personally, as an artist, this notion, that the world is thus and made of such magic, is a staggeringly inspiring thought. I just can't believe my luck at being in such a place. These pieces are ruminations on that creative force. They are odes to that ever-manifesting liveliness. They are explorations in just one more little extension of one more of its infinite little fingers.