I have been a woodworker for more than fifteen years. I have spent this time exploring all the varying methods and techniques used to build with wood. Along the way I became so deeply involved with wood as a substance that it has become the unconscious core of how I express myself visually. When I want to communicate an idea I immediately tap into the techniques and forms that I have spent all this time learning. I make “furniture” not because I am a furniture-maker, but because these forms are my reflex vocabulary. This has led me to explore furniture not as an object, but rather, as a subject. I am not trying to re-invent the chair, make it more comfortable or establish a sleek new design for modern living. Instead, I hope to address the role that furniture plays in our lives and tweak that context as a means to investigate social connections. Tables speak inherently of support and community, cabinets are boxes for secrets and chairs are blatant representations of our selves.
I work with found furniture and material for multiple reasons: We live in a world inundated with a never-ending supply of new material possessions, many of which quickly end up in the trash. We are also entering an era, which many see as on the brink of environmental disaster. Many years ago I made a deliberate choice to remove myself as much as possible from the culture that was creating these problems. As a young “punk” I learned to live outside the norm. I lived in punk houses and warehouses, ate out of dumpsters, and found most all I needed to survive in the cast-offs of others. Although my lifestyle has become more traditional (I own a house and buy food at the market) it has been an easy and logical transition for me to approach the making of art from that radical recycling mindset. Abandoned buildings, dumpsters, trash piles, and junk shops have become my lumberyard. These found objects also conceptually strengthen the content of my work. The history displayed on the surface of these items, through scratches, wear, and damage further my intent to address people and relationships. The marks on an old beat up chair help us move beyond seeing the chair as simply a form, and instead see it as a representation of the lives it has literally supported.
I work with found furniture and material for multiple reasons: We live in a world inundated with a never-ending supply of new material possessions, many of which quickly end up in the trash. We are also entering an era, which many see as on the brink of environmental disaster. Many years ago I made a deliberate choice to remove myself as much as possible from the culture that was creating these problems. As a young “punk” I learned to live outside the norm. I lived in punk houses and warehouses, ate out of dumpsters, and found most all I needed to survive in the cast-offs of others. Although my lifestyle has become more traditional (I own a house and buy food at the market) it has been an easy and logical transition for me to approach the making of art from that radical recycling mindset. Abandoned buildings, dumpsters, trash piles, and junk shops have become my lumberyard. These found objects also conceptually strengthen the content of my work. The history displayed on the surface of these items, through scratches, wear, and damage further my intent to address people and relationships. The marks on an old beat up chair help us move beyond seeing the chair as simply a form, and instead see it as a representation of the lives it has literally supported.
