I make things. Things are the consequence, but somehow these things are composed of carefully chosen ingredients that have proven by trial and error to be reliable extensions of my body.

Why graphite? It is silky, rich. Delicious. Responsive to such a degree that it will mirror the artist in ways that can be ludicrously uncomfortable. It is greasy and somehow also smoky. Obscene and luxurious and virtuous. It is my body cast as a net into dark waters.