My favorite part about working with steel and other found materials is the inevitable adventure.

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A scrapyard is a place where things go to be forgotten, disposed of, and buried. It is a potter’s field of items disregarded. At the start of their lives, these objects were tediously built, prepared, and completed. As heavy machinery stomps and shouts about the accumulated mounds of forgotten goods, I feel a sense of undertaking. Sifting through piles of gnarled, chopped up bits feels delightfully dangerous like I am breaking some sort of rule. Similar to the pirate and a chest full of treasures, the rush comes when I find the perfect lot of “scraps”.

In the studio, it’s my job to breathe life back into the lifeless, like bodies in a morgue. The ancestry behind the timeworn metals captivates me. I can only imagine the life it once lived, and the number of hands and eyes that have passed over each piece. But now here is sits, in mine, waiting to be made into something that thrives once again.

The subject matter of my work is based on my encounters where the presence of life is at its greatest. It is my hope that viewers will experience the composition of lifelessness into living. I want to remind us to appreciate the splendor in the abandoned while being reminded still of the vivacity of life, old and new.

I am a 27 year old artist living and working out of my home in the mountains on North Carolina. I work with scrap metal and found objects.

I’m pretty introverted and have trouble standing up for myself. It’s a trait that I recognize in myself and am constantly working to correct. I want to be able to stand up for myself in the moment if I need to, instead of ruminating on what I should have said. I often find myself in situations (hardware stores, scrapyards, etc.) where I am greeted with stereotypical/sexist reactions. I was in the welding section of one store and one guy came up to me and said, “Are you sure you know what you’re looking for? You don’t usually see women in this section…” The scrapyards are similar. As much as I love to go in and search through the clutter, it is difficult to make a trip without being catcalled or asked if I need help. It’s like I have to mentally prepare for it before I go in. Which is sad. But it also gives me the chance over and over again to work on that part of me that I want to change. Every time is an opportunity for me to overcome my fear of speaking up for myself. I appreciate that my artwork has allowed me to create and put my passions to work, but I also love the continual lessons it teaches me to become a stronger person.

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