I’m a representational sculptor and only slightly embarrassed to admit it. The truth is that I love form, and meander between neoclassicism’s obsession with myth, pop art’s focus on the product, and naturalism’s study of the organic. I sculpt cakes, dogs, Greek sculpture, robber barons, fancy houses, stingrays, six packs, dividing cells, cartons of eggs, caterpillars, pyramids, sphinxes, basketballs, lunar landers, fallen leaves and sheets of paper.

Stream of consciousness is the best way to generate a list. One thing suggests another, suggests another, suggests another. Certain things fit into a collection of objects and others, for no qualitative reason, do not. Often it’s only towards the end of the process that the theme or narrative of the collection becomes apparent.

It’s discouraging to admit the impossibility of what I want to do. My desire is to make portraits of the history of the planet in all its oddity, to get it all in, to pack all that time and energy into a single, quiet moment - a supercollider if you will. I know it can’t be done, and yet perhaps, one day...