Collage as a medium is the result of many years and countless hours staring at a blank page, wondering how it's possible to be surrounded with nothing but art yet still unable to fill a page. At times it's like running through a maze with no memory of entering, yet obsessive wandering consumes all thoughts and steps day in and out. Scraps are picked up and collected in piles and pockets without a thought behind them, just desperation to piece together what can't be reasoned with.
Eventually a method is realized, a thought process of sorts that occurs subconsciously while sorting through the rubble. Pieces that were glued haphazardly together are reminiscent of something that still can't be put into words–even more so when wandering had long since turned into mapping with precision. Places are searched for with a purpose and pieces tracked with intent. The works of collaged chaos lining the walls and floors are evidence of inspiration finally once again taking form.
What exists now is a mosaic of everything that’s been lost, found, and created. It's somehow less than what was wanted and yet more than was ever thought possible. The exit has long since been mapped out, and whether the place that's been wandered now for years is the original prison or a safe haven is undetermined. Yet it's just as important as ever that every nook and cranny of it is explored, picked apart, and rearranged into something representative of the internal world.