artist statement

In October of 2019, I was sitting in the public library in Littleton, Colorado. The sun was just disappearing behind the mountains, and its rays matched the soft orange of the circular ceiling lights; two aisles down, someone whistled over the whir of a printer; in front of me, a man and a woman sat wordlessly across from each other. Suddenly, I was overcome with wonder at the stillness, slowness, and simplicity of the moment. This brief realization, momentous in its humility, has since catalyzed the direction of my work.

The focus of my art is seeing beauty in mundanity and infusing the everyday with wonder. I write pieces that capture tiny slices of reality and augment them musically. At its best, my work sends the audience back to their lives with a newfound appreciation for their own public library and its whirring printer.

I consider myself a composer in the etymological sense of the word, which originates from the Latin verb componere, “to put together.” Though the term is normally associated with music, this interpretation expands that. I combine field recording with electroacoustic percussion chamber music, create audiovisual vignettes that are as much experimental documentary as they are personal scrapbooks, and explore how kinetic sculpture can draw attention to the poetry in sound's physicality.

The air is humming if you listen. The world is filled to the brim, poised to boil over. And whether the golden-yellow sunlight streaming into the kitchen appears holy or is holy doesn't really matter—you can appreciate it the same either way.