I like to walk through the alleys in Chicago. You get to see a lot of unseen. It's where I find new materials, frames, and books. I walked by this ladder and immediately saw it as a great work. I kept walking, and on my way back I had to grab it.

There’s something about this ladder that feels nice. It’s hand made, it tapers from narrow to wider going upward. And at the top, it's broken. The paint that has a clear cutoff. The ornamentation at the top, or signifier of what is the top.

A thought that came about while writing. I enjoy movement in many ways. It’s found often here. Having a work where you can picture yourself interacting with it is neat.

I got this from a group project I was working on as a byproduct of experimentation. I thought it should be hung up, but couldn’t find a way to hang something heavy up without damaging the landlord's wall. So I just started stacking and balancing. It actually works better this way. Honorable mention photo of what it looks like hung up, also where it resides. Also nice this piece can be oriented towards one's liking.

The obvious, it looks like paper clips. I like the movement. It’s angled, it's bent. You know it took strength. The peak is a focus. It’s almost not bent correctly. The work loses fluidity. It’s not perfect. It makes it more interesting. Learning to love. It’s your second favorite choice. Which makes it the best. When there's growing.

My old study paint mixers. I found paint buckets. I found sticks. Droptarp was butcher paper. The board was to stop the tearing of the butcher paper. There were other plans for the green board. To be a part of a combine.

The sticks stuck. There’s life and truth.

It came from some friends' old project. It won an award. But it became a new start for me. In some time. New thought. Practices. To allow. It’s balanced. It’s anew. It’s supported, by you. And itself.

Both are needed. For it to exist.