The materials I work with are not aesthetic decisions made after the fact. They are the physical outcome of a lifetime of values shaped by environment, health, and responsibility.

The same question guides every material choice in my practice: how can the work exist without contradicting the values that govern the spaces it enters—homes, studios, and lived environments alike. This page outlines the material, ethical, and environmental considerations that shape how my work is made.

Materials as Responsibility

My relationship to materials began long before I worked in a studio. Early experiences in outdoor environments established an understanding of care, restraint, and respect as defaults rather than philosophies.

Over time, travel across the United States and Europe reinforced the idea that all environments—natural and constructed—require stewardship. Indoor spaces are environments too, shaped entirely by human decisions. That understanding informs how I work and how I select materials.

Materials are not neutral. They carry consequences.

Resin: Health, History, and Choice

Synthetic resins have a long and complicated history in contemporary art. While they offer unique visual properties, they are also among the most hazardous materials artists have worked with.

Eva Hesse's legacy made this history impossible to ignore. Her work expanded the language of form while revealing the physical cost of working with toxic materials.

With asthma, chemical sensitivities, and children with respiratory conditions, traditional petroleum-based resins were never a safe option for my studio or home.

The decision to work with bioresin was not an aesthetic compromise. It was a necessary alignment of ethics and health. The bioresin I use is derived from naturally occurring resins sourced from dead trees and agricultural byproducts rather than fossil-fuel-based petrochemicals.

No material is perfect. Nothing is entirely without impact. But choosing plant- and tree-derived alternatives allows the work to exist without contradicting the values that govern my life and practice.

Paper, Ink, and Printmaking Ethics

Printmaking introduced a separate ethical challenge. For years, I was told that sustainable printing was not possible. That claim did not align with how I lived or worked.

Early prints were produced on recycled polyester substrates long before sustainable materials were widely discussed in fine art printing. When developing the Earthbound collection, I sought a paper that reflected the same standards of responsibility present in my sculptural materials.

That search led me to Hahnemühle, a paper manufacturer with more than 400 years of history and a documented commitment to environmental responsibility, clean water use, natural fibers, and low-impact production.

Using archival, sustainably produced paper allows prints to exist as lasting objects without sacrificing environmental accountability.

Printmaking, in this context, is not reproduction. It is a continuation.

Sustainability as Infrastructure, Not Aesthetic

Sustainability in my practice is not applied to finished work as a surface-level concern. It is embedded in how the studio operates and how decisions are made.

I have been a business member of 1% for the Planet since 2021 and have invested in renewable energy projects through Energea since early 2023. Those investments have already generated measurable solar energy output, offsetting a portion of my studio and household footprint.

These choices are extensions of a lifestyle built around responsibility, not marketing alignment.

Integration: Building Only What Is Needed

This practice is intentionally slow.

Rebuilding a studio is not about recreating what existed before. It is about constructing an ecosystem where every decision—materials, ventilation, equipment, and process—supports both health and integrity.

Working slowly allows the practice to remain aligned rather than reactive.

What This Means for the Work

Every piece I create carries the imprint of these decisions.

Material restraint, careful sourcing, and health-conscious process are not conceptual overlays. They are the conditions that allow the work to exist honestly within the spaces it enters.

Art, for me, is autobiography.

The autobiography embedded in my materials is one of stewardship, responsibility, and care.