The sun has blazed hot on my back, hot from different corners of the earth, and now hot yet cooler as I wade through the Southern Hemisphere winter, wade through long broken nights and days absorbed in newborn skin rather than paper and pencil.

Bringing to the floor ‘The Archive’. From the vaults, from my entire body of work. I’m not a hoarder but that’s not beneath me either. I’m a collector, and now a curator, of my work which is self-absorbed but I did preface this with my potential arrogance. Some of these works feel significant to the time they were made, back when I laid my paper bare on the NYC sidewalk streets to spray them with fixative, outdoors so I didn’t gas myself in my tiny apartment. Then too shooting the works in the street with Mother Nature’s free yet unpredictable studio lighting - the sun. Other works would be just as welcomed for me to deliver today. My still favoured combination of soiled and used, battered and once loved objects, attempting to tell a story of people's lives through the objects they leave behind. But I always seek to look back, too. I delve into vintage bookstores, captivated by their sections and offerings, which are vast.

There are two versions of my work as displayed in this collection. I have the stand-alone objects. The ones that speak for themselves, the subjects that need no introduction, need no reinventing the wheel. Honestly, they just need a framing in my opinion - for me to honor their beauty, their already mastered and perfected entirety, and that’s as I have done. There is then the story I beg to tell. The compositions, the arrangements, and the pairings. Portraying a setting of sorts, one object meaning something more, something different than its own. A mushroom next to a Men’s magazine. A silver spoon next to canned fish. Most of my work is location-inspired, and if not, it’s usually hedonist-inspired. Maybe that’s the depth of my work, an aspiring traveling hedonist. Brash enough to expose myself again, through works past, into ‘The Archive’ for digestion anew.