Collecting treasures from the street was my work as a child. This continues to be an important part of my making process, whether found materials or old paint. As a young photographer my father would suggest I reframe a photograph so the rusty structure wouldn’t show. But I wanted the rusty structure.

None of that has changed. I’m drawn to things that visibly carry the passing of time, especially if I feel I rescued them. I respond similarly to a scrap of a poster or a muted green paint salvaged from the dump, thickened and strange. The gut reaction and the excitement of discovery move me.

My mind is busy. The one thing that quiets it is creating with my hands. When I begin to work, I feel my brain change state. I lose time. I lose self-consciousness. I can look at a piece days later and not remember making it.

When people ask what I think about when I work, I tell them: I do everything I can to think of nothing. The connections reveal themselves. The work knows before I do.