working artist statement

I' ll always remember the moment excavators became my favorite thing.  It was night; everything was still.  A powerful spotlight shown on snow falling gently toward an army of dozens of excavators, assembled for the job that would become the local outlet mall.  After feeling seethingly toward this symbol of suburban sprawl, so prevalent where I live, my heart saw the poetry in this shape, repeated here so beautifully, lit so romantically.  I began to photograph the animal-like excavators and their habitat, where subdivisions meet monoculture cropland.  It's hard to be nostalgic about either half of this landscape's history, but there is still a choking feeling I get with each new housing development.  This work is my observation of the need for community planning, more so now than ever, as the population grows and peak oil looms.  

Gracie and I went to Home Depot last night and picked up some cabinet birch plywood for the paintings and borrowed a sander from Uncle Bob.  Gracie says, "Bob."  Ray and Nicole were at Chris and Bob's and we played cards.  Ray and I played war for a long time and I had such a good time laughing with him.  My mom took the big girls to see Hotel for Dogs, out to dinner, and for a sleepover.  They said they had an "amazing" time.  This afternoon, I took the girls to a Girl Scout field trip and tried waiting  there, but the familiar, painful brand of distracted boredom I'd forgotten from school set in and I had to escape.  I wasn't sure if that was socially acceptable or not, but I had to get out of that little room before I choked.