Recently I sat down and went through every sketchbook I have created over the past 40 years. From this exercise I realize that I am a memory collector with a fascination with how memory functions in my life.

I am fascinated with how the human mind retains, organizes, works with, creates, and stores memories. Are memories lost? Are they layered and interact with one another? Are they constantly and actively rising up to the surface of conscience thought only to be submerged with the passing of time? How are memories changed when we choose to work with them? Do humans lose memories on purpose of from the lack of use? Are memories stored in a single location in the mind or they fragmented—stored here and there and only come together when triggered? Can the mind be mapped in a way to show how memory is built and stored?

The human mind is thought to have as many as 100 billion neurons. The human mind is also thought to be capable of storing up to 2.5 million gigabytes of digital memory. One way to picture this is to imagine a 4GB memory card. You would need approximately 625,000 cards to contain this information— when stacked on one another would a tower just under 6 miles high.

The works I have recently been creating are an exploration of memories—their forms when they happened and the form they have today as I look back. All of the works relate directly to a specific time period —2008 - 2018 during which time a traveled to Greece at least once per year.

This work is a visual exploration of translating the images from my memories into forms. I have used the shapes of Ancient Greek pottery as shapes to attempt to fit my memories into.

One of the most numerous and well documented artifacts that remain from Ancient Greece are pots that contain images of their stories (memories?). These pots are often found fragmented and are pieced back together by expert restorers. Am I a restorer or a container for memory? Do I constantly piece together and then break apart memories?

What drives me as an artist is the process of making, asking questions and searching for answers knowing full well most often the questions will never have a definitive, complete, or easy answer. The joy of making art is in the seeking.