The pieces of the picture are torn.  Abraded. Drawn, illegible.  Stained,  marked.  Pebbled.
Translucent.   Color.  Black-and-white.  They fill our visual, mental, and soul spaces in multiple media--handmade and digitized, relics and reproductions.  Fragments of long-forgotten unities.  

    This is how we live now.  Through the interstices, where the edges touch, pour the archetypal energies of angels, demons,  dragons, divinities.  Unmoored from their lost cosmologies, they threaten to overwhelm us with their chaotic vitality--or to leave us numb, unable to receive their hieroglyphic gifts.

    My work is an exploration.  Tentative.  Awkward.  The process with its imperfections remains visible in the final picture.  The new unity Im looking for is the ancient goddess and god  re-(e)merging with a splurge.  Sex is process.  The dimensions are intimate--must be, since the heroic space is colonized.  Intimate with a tiny window to the infinite.

    In the collage, what clashes--scrawls and pixels, orange and purple, torn and cut, photo and felt, type and tissue, ephemera and myth--is where we start.   Where our image-constructed consensual reality and the deepest self begin their stormy romance.