During my final year in college, a visiting artist was invited to critique my studio class. She asked me if I knew what my art was about. After sitting in my studio, looking at my work, and receiving my answer of, No idea, she suggested that my art comes from the same place as my lack of answer: the experience of being lost.

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For my final undergraduate art class, I embraced that meaning in my process. Each structure I built, each process I developed, came from the internal desire to create it. I set aside meaning and allowed each creation to lead into the next. As the semester continued, my studio---what began as a collection of disparate, abstract forms---morphed into an accumulation of repeating connections.

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I started to see patterns everywhere: in sidewalks, shadows, mussel shells, neurons, branches, the mathematical rendering of a black hole. I had twisted them from wire, captured their shadows in the darkroom, contained them in plastic and burst them out again. I carved them from photographs, I pressed them into sheets of acrylic. I drew them everywhere, expanding...

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What do you do amidst the chaos of the unknown? This final installation forced me to ask myself that question. I felt lost. I stared. I built connections and let them go. I allowed for the possibility of impossibility...

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I invite you to be lost here with me.