My paintings exist in the margins between analogue and digital. All of the images are stolen (scavenged) and all of the images are sacred. I tried to make them belong to me but they shouted at me that they only belong to themselves as they slipped through my fingers and slinked off into the inter-webs, leaving behind a slippery, inky trail of zeros and ones.

How binary, I smirked, feeling superior for a moment as I peered down at my hands, before remembering my DNA is made of base pairs.

I pull from marginality, in my own autobiography, in the images I create, in the way I see the world. I prefer to hover in the margins, taking in the room, observing what is happening from the sidelines. In the margins we are free.