I am a hoarder. I collect what others could easily trash. Old letters from roommates and ex-boyfriends, a rock I found when I was taking a walk, an expired subway pass- anything that is even remotely connected to my past, I feel the need to keep. I truly believe these objects are bits of me; bits of me that if I let go of, my experiences, my memories, and possibly my entire identity could disappear completely with their disposal. I hold onto my memories tightly because whether they be reflections of good times passed or evidence of pain and hardship, I am constantly growing through their examination. There will always be those memories that hurt to remember, and it is this tug-of-war between heart and mind, this wanting to remember, but needing to forget that drives me to make art.

I use the art-making process to explore preservation of the past, specifically by the creation of memories. I am interested in why we choose to preserve and what form these preservations take on. Are they incarnated as physical objects or merely vague recollections of the mind? What determines what gets remembered and what becomes forgotten? Do we have any control over the burial of our memories?

Because my art deals with my own personal memories and experiences, it has become a very intimate process of self-exploration. This delving into my past takes on the form of a journal, scrap-booked thoughts that have bled onto or been burned into paper, or memories petrified in rubber.

Though this work is first and foremost my ritualistic approach to self-discovery, it is also important that the viewer experiences this process within his or herself. By using translucent, ephemeral materials, I aim to create a layered experience, creating opportunity to wander through my pieces. This dialogue between the viewer and the work, this journeying, echoes my own personal journey in unearthing my identity through the study of my remembered past.