I didn't create art for six months after the passing of my mother and estrangement of my brother for a multitude of reasons. Finally when I stepped into the studio again a rawness appeared. I was no longer going to settle for hiding my pain in the beauty. I intended to forgo all that I had trained myself to do in the previous bodies of work.

2017 was an explosion of material exploration for me. I honestly was lost and clueless in this new direction, all I knew was that it felt right. For the most part, I surprised myself each time I created. What happens when you don't plan? What happens when the surrounding energies are your muse? These themes had always been my purpose for creating art, but never had I allowed myself to be so free.

Also by that time, I was reeling with disgust for realism - it appeared weak and lacked vulnerability. A visual comprise that seemed to receive too much praise both in the art world and on social media. Additionally I was rebelling against all the machine produced and printed arts.

I was driven to expose all the raw edges within my fragmented existence Symbiosis 10.17.1. This body of work yelled: "I am here! Alive with emotions that ooze all over my surface. I make art to feel and because I feel." Thus began = my most punk rock and proud use of materials. I repurposed paintings that were either too contrived or too ingenious; I transformed them much like my own transmogrify. How symbiotic this all was.