Foundation Work
Acrylic on reclaimed cardboard shipping boxes
Double-wall corrugated fiberboard (originally used to package a new saw, six bottles of IPA-spiced BBQ sauce, and a brand new Weber )
14" x 30" | $2,500
This started as something functional. Just a sheet of cardboard I stood on to keep paint off the studio floor. Nothing special. Just a buffer between the mess and the ground.
But after a few days, I looked down—and realized I was standing on the beginning of something. A piece that had taken shape without permission. Without a plan.
So I gave it a new role. I layered it, shaped it, and began to build. Those crackled embellishments? Pulled from thick multi-cell cardboard, soaked and dyed by hand. Little fragments with their own weight and history—now elevated, now part of the story.
This piece is a reminder: you don’t always need to start from scratch. Sometimes what you need to move forward is already under your feet. You just have to see it differently.
Foundation Work is exactly that—the beginning, the build, the shift from utility to intention.
And if you’re standing at the edge of something big? Good. That means you’re right where you’re supposed to be.
Acrylic on reclaimed cardboard shipping boxes
Double-wall corrugated fiberboard (originally used to package a new saw, six bottles of IPA-spiced BBQ sauce, and a brand new Weber )
14" x 30" | $2,500
This started as something functional. Just a sheet of cardboard I stood on to keep paint off the studio floor. Nothing special. Just a buffer between the mess and the ground.
But after a few days, I looked down—and realized I was standing on the beginning of something. A piece that had taken shape without permission. Without a plan.
So I gave it a new role. I layered it, shaped it, and began to build. Those crackled embellishments? Pulled from thick multi-cell cardboard, soaked and dyed by hand. Little fragments with their own weight and history—now elevated, now part of the story.
This piece is a reminder: you don’t always need to start from scratch. Sometimes what you need to move forward is already under your feet. You just have to see it differently.
Foundation Work is exactly that—the beginning, the build, the shift from utility to intention.
And if you’re standing at the edge of something big? Good. That means you’re right where you’re supposed to be.
Acrylic on reclaimed cardboard shipping boxes
Double-wall corrugated fiberboard (originally used to package a new saw, six bottles of IPA-spiced BBQ sauce, and a brand new Weber )
14" x 30" | $2,500
This started as something functional. Just a sheet of cardboard I stood on to keep paint off the studio floor. Nothing special. Just a buffer between the mess and the ground.
But after a few days, I looked down—and realized I was standing on the beginning of something. A piece that had taken shape without permission. Without a plan.
So I gave it a new role. I layered it, shaped it, and began to build. Those crackled embellishments? Pulled from thick multi-cell cardboard, soaked and dyed by hand. Little fragments with their own weight and history—now elevated, now part of the story.
This piece is a reminder: you don’t always need to start from scratch. Sometimes what you need to move forward is already under your feet. You just have to see it differently.
Foundation Work is exactly that—the beginning, the build, the shift from utility to intention.
And if you’re standing at the edge of something big? Good. That means you’re right where you’re supposed to be.