My paintings are sensory brews. Working at the intersection of figuration and abstraction, they are subjective representations of both objective experiences and psychological phenomena. Whether it is the luscious glow of a sunrise seen and felt on your closed eyelids, a crippling anxiety at the prospect of a bed bug infestation, or the erotic tickle of a slimy tongue creeping in your ear, I do not classify experiences hierarchically or according to what senses they trigger—any experience deserves a shot at its own afterlife. When I paint, I am reviving these experiences, drawing them back to the surface.

Our minds and our bodies are constantly working to be present for everything we see, feel, hear, smell and taste. There is nothing clean or simple about trying to live or understand these moments and sensations ever-slamming into our mind’s space, our body’s space. Instead of dwelling on how an experience affected me—what it did to me, I take hold of my experiences, reinventing them with my own agency. When memories of these experiences travel through me, shifting and warping in the process, a gloriously filthy, lumpy, wet, crusty, smooth, greasy, chunky, and leaky mess of new sensations emerges and finds voluptuous form and life in my paintings. The painting is now its own experience, visceral, tangible—inviting you to share the goosebumps and itches, the frustrations and celebrations—the terrible yank of the tooth. Here, in my paintings, though, trauma can be whimsical, desire can be disgusting, and sentimental nostalgia can take the shape of a giant, juicy butt.