Since I was a child, it has been my perception that the spaces we create for ourselves almost seem to talk. The rooms in our houses or the random junk we incorporate into the natural landscape are like stage sets. Our spaces, and all the things we fill them with, form a kind of visual language to be interpreted. In my work, I tell stories about stage sets of my imagining. Some are from memory, and some are pure fantasy. The landscapes in my paintings stand as quiet, often manipulated spectators, grand and almost in another realm, while the humans who inhabit them busily and carelessly go about their various affairs, muddling through their lives, and sometimes causing great harm. I have lived in New York for years, but my native Mississippi and my identity as "Southern" still helps to shape my world-view, forming the vocabulary of my work. However, I like to think my work is a synthesis of living in the North, the South, and beyond. The evidence of the human struggle lies in the random junk and detritus of life, both inside our living spaces and out, whether in the North, South, East, or West.