When I first started making this work, I was focused on learning how to use the welder like any
other drawing tool. Through my exploration, a hardy studio practice has evolved that enriches
the work layer by layer. The repetition of my methodology is ritualistic, I honor the gift of being
able to create these works. The pieces are always made the same way; starting as a solid sheet of
paper, cutting the hexagonal shapes, waxing them, and welding the steel on top of the paper. My
use of the welder is three fold, it is essential in the physical construction of the hexagonal
components, and the marks made on the paper help produce the illusion of greater depth of field.
Most importantly, burning the paper is the final act of sacrament, releasing the offerings to the
universe.
I work within the hexagonal form because it is nature's organizing system. Scientists believe it is
because it is the most space efficient shape. I was intrigued by the uniformity of the natural
order, from the hexagonal core of every spider web, to the 60 degree angle at which branches
shoot off tree trunks. Moreover, outlining the outer corners of a perfect hexagon will create a
360 degree circle, accordingly, outlining the outer edges of a human being with outstretched
arms and legs will form a 360 degree circle. Perhaps the most mystifying hexagonal connection
is that the seven principal religions in the world, Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hindu,
Paganism, and VooDoo, all use the hexagon within their symbolism. A hexagon can be found in
the center of the Star of David and formed by running straight lines from point to point around
the outside of the figure. Perhaps, this is the Patriarch's way of giving respect to the true creator.
The work straddles somewhere between drawing and sculpture. Not simply because it can be
described as marks on paper or that the components are three dimensional, but because of the
physical presence of the work and it's relationship to the viewing wall. The ceremony of
preparing the paper, waxing and construction initiates a very close physical relationship with my
materials. This process generates a visceral experience that engages the viewer in an intimate
way. As one leans in to get a better look, the head sways and tilts from side to side, perhaps
going in a bit further to smell the intoxicating concoction of the sweet scent of bees wax and
welding. The smell fills the viewing space and awakens all five senses.
The drawings seem delicate and precious, yet they are sturdy and resilient. As the cinders and
slag pieces fall and are left behind, the work continues to reduce and evolve into a new form.
My compositions are site specific, my interest is to have the components reconfigured into new
spaces. By which challenging their ability to adapt and survive an alternative environment. This
consequence is one of my continued life lessons. The inability to control everything in one's life
and having to except the losses associated with the cycle of life. I have learned to honor what is
lost, and accept the fact that what is left behind is no longer needed for where I am advancing to.
I embrace the new possibilities that grow within that void left.
I live and work in New York.
While fabricating an armature for another sculpture, I became intoxicated by the beauty and grace created from arc welding. In order to fabricate the armature to an exact likeness, I bent the steel and clamped it down directly on top of a drawing of the armature and welded the steel at the cross points. When I lifted the armature up and saw the marks that were left on the paper, I knew that something important had happened. I was fascinated by the traces of light and the activity of the electrodes that usually go unseen by the naked eye. For me, these drawings capture evidence of the sublime and uncover its truths.
With humility, I place sheets of paper on my steel table, construct the grid structure, and then ceremoniously pull an actual trigger. An electrified copper wire is fed from the tip of the welding gun, and as the wire touches the steel, an electrical arc occurs, producing enough heat to fuse the steel together. A fire is started with each weld; each is an offering intended to uncover another beautiful truth. I layer the paper to create more depth; the top sheet is an artifact of the process documenting the destruction of my materials. I regard the sheets beneath as fossils, as versions of the incandescent event. Each sheet is thus a remembrance, and layer by layer, as the imprint fades, there is the promise of transcendence.
