First Dog in Space

In general, my work illustrates my thoughts about some of the lighter and more altruistic motivations for human progress and creativity, while never quite ignoring the other side of that progress, which is loss and destruction. My favorite work focuses on personal moral ambiguity, which I feel is strongly related to the ambiguities of technological and social progress. I've worked a great deal with different forms of narrative, from the subtly implied to the explicit voice-over, because I see the moment of motivation as a moment in a long history of continuum.

In a way sculpting animals makes perfect sense to me, as it emphasizes the oddness of life - the fact that all animals are composed of inanimate stuff to begin with, but by the miracle of biology are animate. At the same time, while I feel a great connection to all animals, they are all still ultimately unknowable. The animals in my sculptures somehow reflect that distance, as well. (Probably because they're made of wood.) I'm concerned with the rifts between human and non-human animals, as the nature of those rifts defines more in our culture than is commonly acknowledged.

I originally intended this sculpture to be a memorial for Laika, the dog the Russians sent into space. But, actually, Laika didn't look anything like this dog. I need to work on my portraiture skills. It's ended up being a great deal more general, which I feel is appropriate, as Laika was just one animal among millions, in fact one dog among millions that was trustingly led to her death for the sake of human advancement or human convenience.

I find it sort of weird that years of experimenting with performance art, new media, and installation would lead me to carve animals out of wood. But, with the fear of sounding blithe, it may be another reflection of my thoughts about the non-linear nature of human advancement.