Art is meant to have meaning, and yet the meaning of my work alludes me. When I create art, I form things from the shadows of my mind. Many times I will not have any mental image of the final product and more often than not, my art is dark, disturbing, or simply strange. When I place pen on paper, knife on wood, or fingers on wire, I only ever have a loose idea of my final goal, but my inner thoughts guide my hand in undetermined ways to create visual artworks for all to interpret, even myself. When asked to explain the meaning behind my work I retort by asking, "What it means to you?" I can say that my artwork depicts the human form, face and hands mostly, and that most works of mine are meant to show the grit of the primality of humanity, but truthfully there is much more behind all my work. I don’t even know what it all means. Viewers can analyze my work, fabricate narratives around it, even delve into physiological idioms and Freudian concepts and these interpretations will not be wrong. But they will never fully understand my works. That is why I create.