There is an interminable distance between one human and another. In attempts to bridge the distance we climb through hierarchies and assumptions to find there are no monsters and there are no gods. Simultaneously we realize there are only monsters and there are only gods. Everything is intangible and misrepresented. Nothing may ever actually be. The urge to define what is REAL is both intoxicating and terrifying. I create myths and memories in an attempt to understand yours. Simultaneously, I build a wall to protect my own. Inevitably the distance remains where the artist, the self, continues to control nothing. Not a single word uttered is ever accurate. Until my hubris gives out, I pursue proof of the real. And yet, the quest is inaccurate in its very nature. Such is my bliss.

I have come back to read over this statement many times and it is still true for me, but here it is in plainer language. People, in general, amaze and confuse me. We are inconstant and vain and desperate to stand on solid ground. The search, the quest of life, takes on many guises. I find myself boggled, more often than not. So monsters and pithy narratives are a way for me to process the world. They allow me to make commentary in one arena, when I have to hold my tongue in another.

The vessel forms are subversive, or sneaky if you will, maybe I can slip into someone's unsuspecting world and make a point or jog a purposeful thought or action loose. Yes, I believe in the ability of art to impact the world. My desire to play with others at a chalkboard or to collaborate by playing with dolls is really my desire to open up potential for others, because art opened potential for me. It is also an attempt to have a conversation and learn a little more about our confusing humanness. Monsters enable me to, as Richard Nickel put it, "Stare at people less."