Extinction
This work is a contemplation on the collapse of human experiential processes. As we become lonelier in our human experiences than ever before, the self becomes both hyper-visible and strangely absent—observed constantly yet rarely witnessed—resulting in a profound dislocation between sensing, meaning-making, and agency.
These works are suspended between living and failing, simultaneously wounded and preserved, as if arrested mid-transformation. There is no stable point of view—no front or back, no separation between exterior and interior—producing a state of visceral perceptual ambiguity. The blood-like surface of these sculptures stands for the totality of lived experience: what is carried, absorbed, and survived through flesh and blood.
A recurring symbol in this work is a mythological bird called the Caladrius, known for absorbing illness from the sick and flying it away, symbolizing profound healing and hope. In my work, the bird is dying—a metaphor for the extinction of clarity, or a form of blindness within a world that is losing its ability to recognize when something is wrong.
In the age of algorithmic gaze and an infinite volume of AI-generated content, this is no longer a cautionary tale. This work facilitates a return to the self as an active witness—one grounded in material engagement, contemplation, and the insistence on lived, human perception.
These sculptures are made with paper clay, often raku-fired, and range in length from 17 to 35 inches.