Magazine

Atopos Adaptation focuses on the beauty and diversity of the organisms we live alongside, exploring the inherent aspects of life. What part of this theme resonates most strongly with your work? 

Interconnectedness. My work is grounded in the understanding that every organism—no matter how small or overlooked—plays a vital role in our fragile ecosystem. When one species is disrupted, the effects rarely remain isolated; they ripple outward, influencing countless others and altering the balance we depend on. This delicate web of relationships is at the heart of what I explore, emphasizing both the vulnerability and resilience embedded in the natural world.

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The work in this exhibition draws on design principles found in living organisms through form, color, and movement. In what ways do your pieces reflect or respond to these qualities? 

 I intentionally shift the color of the organism or form, using unexpected or unnatural hues to jolt the viewer and underscore a sense of urgency. Color carries emotional weight—signals of danger, warning, or heightened awareness—and I rely on that expressive power. Many works are repainted dozens of times; I often need to paint something the “wrong” color in order to discover the right one, the hue that resonates with both the form and the message I want to convey.

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Your concept of time has led to portrayals of carefully selected symbols that include nests, eggs, marine creatures, and single-celled organisms. What made you gravitate toward these biological forms, and how do they shape your understanding of encapsulating life in art?

I was initially drawn to these biological forms simply because of their beauty. That curiosity led me deeper into researching the organisms that inhabit our vast world, and I became fascinated by their origins, their evolutionary paths, and the remarkable adaptations that allow them to survive and thrive.

These forms also became a way for me to think about time. Geologic time versus human time is a recurring theme in my work. The earth’s natural processes—erosion, crystallization, sedimentation—unfold over immense stretches of time that far exceed a human lifespan. By contrast, our individual moments are fleeting. The biological symbols I use—nests, eggs, ancient marine life, single-celled organisms—act as anchors between these two scales. They evoke the slow, inevitable rhythms of nature while also representing the fragility and transience of life.

In this way, these forms help me explore what it means to encapsulate life in art: to hold a brief human moment up against the deep, ongoing cycles that shape the world around us.

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Throughout your far travels, you’ve specifically studied the history of glass, ancient civilizations, and the natural world. How have encountering these various cultures impacted your work, and do they foster a connection with the symbolic concept of time in your recurring motifs? 

The ancient glass has a beautiful surface (unlike the glass we typically see) it is not shiny. The forms stand out without the reflection. The mineral salts in the Earth, where most of these ancient pieces were found contribute to this effect. Seeing ancient cultures still using techniques and tools that needed no updating. Remelting found glass to make new vessels. 

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Your statement highlights themes of time with encompassing factors such as birth and decay and urgency in environmental endangerment, how do these ideas become visible in the work that is being exhibited? 

These ideas surface in the work through my focus on renewal, resilience, and the fragile cycles that govern life. I’m drawn to the concept that the endless possibility of rebirth may be our only salvation, especially in the face of environmental crisis. To express this, I use the detritus of our own culture—found plastic parts, dried plant material collected on hikes, packing materials, and other cast-off remnants—and combine them with new paint and mediums. The use of discarded and newly created elements mirrors the tension between decay and regeneration.

My experience with coral ecosystems also deeply informs the work. I’ve witnessed both severe devastation and extraordinary recovery in reef habitats. What stays with me most is the resilience of these environments—returning to the same stretch of ocean and seeing familiar species reappear in their somewhat predictable rhythms, often tied to the time of day. That cyclical persistence becomes a visual and conceptual thread in the pieces: evidence that life endures, adapts, and begins again, even in the wake of human impact.

Your work specifically draws from the conceptual understandings of the natural world, most notably, marine life. What moves you personally regarding the oceans and their inhabitants?

Sea turtles, for instance, navigate back to the very beach where they were born, guided by their innate sensory abilities. They—along with countless other species—have become symbols, almost poster children, for the larger environmental challenges we face. Their persistence is a reminder of what is at stake and what might still be restored.

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Atopos Adaptation is on view at InLiquid Gallery through January 10, 2026. You can learn more here and shop the exhibition here.

RSVP to the second reception to see the exhibition and meet the artists in person.