Artist Statement, yo.

Two years from the time I wrote my first artist statement and I still don’t know how I feel about using the word ‘artist’ to describe myself. It makes me feel icky. But if I were to call myself an artist, I’d have to say my goal, in simplest terms, is expression. I’m a fan of guys who have their own, personal creative vision. The French call them ‘auteurs.’ Guys like Woody Allen or Louis C.K are big to me because when you see their work, you know it’s theirs. Their unique perspective has an indelible mark on what they do, yet at the same time anyone can relate. When I create, I want people to know that it’s my work and at the same time, I don’t want it to feel alien to anyone, even if they live a life far different than mine.

There is a lot about life that scares me. Loneliness, failure and, death scare the hell out of me, to name a few. But if you pick and prod and poke at those fears for long enough, you start to see how ridiculous those fears can be. And if you talk about these things enough, you discover you aren’t the only one living in your own head, being constantly bothered by your own neurosis. I think people need to know that. I think people need to know that the human experience is a shared experience, and there’s something so common about our fears and our grievances, big or small, that it becomes kind of funny when you think about it. As an “artist,” I want to take that first step with anyone who is willing to listen and maybe they want to talk back. Maybe after seeing what I create, they want to tell me they can relate or maybe they want to tell me that I’m full of shit, but either way, I want to listen.