All my work is a memorial to queer ancestors, a shrine to sensation, and a reliquary to fetish. Each piece serves as a calculated mourning of Manhood and an exploration of the fragile, ephemeral nature of history and identity. In my practice, I create containers out of objects, text, images and installations that hold both the weight of memory and desire, offering spaces where the past and present can coexist and inform one another.

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For years, I existed in a self-constructed fantasy world of 1970s San Francisco bookstores, 80s New York hospital rooms, and coffee shops and beat hotels filled with writers and sodomites. My artwork was born from this world, pieces intended only for the spirits who inhabited the queer world I sought to enter.

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In this earlier work, I believed that the ways of my queer ancestors had died with them, leaving me to long for this imagined world. But as I’ve come to realize, these queer histories, practices, and values have not vanished. They have survived and thrived in specific moments, special places, within the right communities. Today, I create not from a place of disillusioned nostalgia, but from an understanding that the queer revolution continues to burn bright, living in unexpected places and times.

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Through my artwork, I now see that I don’t need to inhabit the past to create work that feels authentic. The containers I build—whether in sculpture, installation, writing, painting, photographs or performance—hold both the past’s mourning and the present’s possibilities. These works become vessels for loss, but also for action, desire, and community. I now understand that the act of creating these memorials is not just about acknowledging what has been lost, but about making space for what will be.

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By engaging with the present queer moment, I learn how to mourn the past in a way that allows me to imagine the future. Each piece I create becomes a container for queer histories that are both alive and still unfolding.