As much as I attempt to preserve a person or memory, life will always take over. We ultimately have no true power over our lives, but our grandiose illusions are enough to push us through existence. I came to shibori and rust dyeing out of a necessity to contemplate control. Wringing, squeezing and pressing are visceral actions describing our own needs to grasp security. Yet this control is facetious, as chaos inevitably takes over. Corrosion and oxidation disintegrate even the strongest metal into nothing, straining the surface past its delicate limits and exposing an inner light. Through suffering, we become beautiful. 

The dichotomy of control and chaos plays a constant role in my life and art. I like to think my family has a longer life span than my corroded pieces, but in time, we become one with our surroundings. Simultaneously. photographing my grandparents’ memories serves as a reminder of reality, while the abstract landscapes invite the surreal to emphasize the transience of their state. We are never our degraded selves.