A lifetime interest in the processes of seeing, listening and imagining, along with the simulations and apperceptions these processes create, is a foundation of my practice. In recent years, I’ve been conjuring artworks and scenarios that distill developments that program and reprogram instances of symbolic and material terrains. Given the eroding distinction between biological and technical forms of life and liveness, these works look for symptoms of change, or responses that might give some inkling of what and where we come from, and where we're headed.

Aspects of agency and intentionality among human and more-than-human rhythms are probe, achieving a disquieting intimacy that likely responds to my fascination with the enigmatic and ritualistic links between light, color, sound and movement of clubbing and raving. They also convey perspectives on what artworks are or could be: emergent terrains, outside worlds in the making, a drive to break from that which already exists.

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Amber-Witch pits reality against reality: two enlarged mating geckos are seen exchanging fluids, a scene more commonly observed in a herpetology lab or a zoo. Here it is installed as a standing, floor-to-ceiling glass structure that defies gravity, exposing the viewer to details otherwise impossible to observe. A display no less fictional than an specimen, and an specimen no more real than its displayed simulation.

A territory’s history and terraforming aggregates are revealed in layered units in a site-specific installation, a regional retrospective and, at once, a foresighted timekeeper.

Concealed magnetic structures, mounted behind aging and restored walls, boards, and screens, drive a thin applied layer of a custom mix of iron powder, to mysteriously draw an ever-shifting atlas of the very same town.

Trailed only by a single stage light, a solitary mass transforms and drifts across the space over time. "Where I Am May Be Gone..." is a private dance between the rhythmic and the accidental, where residual traces of human presence are slowly replaced by movement. A magnetic structure beneath the floor drives the mass's gestures, evoking a lonely raver or the possibility of an endless reconstitution.

A scene of a vast collection of delicate kidney stones, choreographed by airflow. Emerging from air ducts installed low in the walls of the presenting space, currents of air softly blow the stones into clusters and scattered formations, piles and fields. The title refers both to the celestial, mineral matter formed within the human body and to the role of a performer in theater or cinema.

Inside an occupied nightclub, a clubgoer is hauntingly trailed by stage lights. An enigmatic passage of seven bodiless entities into a single living body.

In May 2016, seven people were killed in an armed attack on a gay nightclub in Veracruz, México. Sleepers is a revival rite, too deep to grasp other than in this artistic symbol.

Sleepers is exhibited in three protocols:
1 As a standalone exhibit in museum, gallery or outdoors with one set of trailing lights and a prerecorded soundtrack and a small audience.
2 As a standalone exhibit and live DJ sets with a larger audience and one set of trailing lights.
3 Embedded within a larger nightclub environment, using seven sets of trailing lights.

Beneath Alien Trees' cinematic surface lies the alien itself, here a synthesis of origin and extraction, natural and supernatural.

Filmed inside a modern greenhouse using a rotating robotic arm, the work conjures the vantage of an enigmatic entity crawling through and surveying the inflorescence of its collection. Its soundtrack, emitted from three orifices in the projected wall, is composed of the throbbing noise of the robotic arm's wobbling motion alongside live on-set recordings captured with environmental and modified contact microphones installed on roots, branches, stems, leaves, soil, and artificial creeks.

A photograph of an ecology after infrastructure, steered by more-than-human rhythms. An overturning and mantling exposé governed by the persistent procession of new forms encased in a large Lightbox becomes a pitting cage of a reality against a reality.

A cultural building's auditory and pressure patterns are recorded over time, then translated into an intricate small iron cast that burns its mark back into one of the building's own walls, thus producing a crystallized clock and cycle of the institution's circulatory and environmental systems.

As reptiles surfaced over the oceans some 320 million years ago, they opened their eyes to an ever-first horizon. Near Sunsight asks how that fluid, distant reality might be experienced today — shot using a hacked endoscopic device fitted with two camera lenses, a photo-light-receptive membrane, and a remote navigation controller, its soundtrack consists of woven from underwater high and low frequencies.