I invent history. A broad claim, I know. But what I do in my work is akin to just that. Found objects, abstract from one another, fit together seamlessly like broken pottery fixed, it's hard to tell they're not related. Objects, people, places, lives, all brought together.

My art helps me breathe. How else can I get it all out? Flea markets and antique stores are my havens. A clear-cut case of "one man's trash is another man's treasure".

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