When I turned 18, I set out to find myself - I looked hign and low (and had my shares of highs and lows) - and found myself in New York City. I thought that I had found home.

Little did I know that life is not always what we think it is and what we hope for is not always what we get. All of the dreams that I packed in my suitcases when I left my family in the Midwest seemed to remain locked there, gathering dust while I dealt with "life" and "love".

It wasn't until I turned 30 last year that I realized that very little of myself remained. Somehow, I got lost along the way. So, I went back to where I left that guy I used to be - home.

My art is about the long journey home, the pit stops on the way, and finding myself again.