I learned at a very young age the satisfaction of making something from nothing. My mother was an immigrant from the Ukraine who could improvise anything when we didn’t have exactly what we needed, which was most of the time. And my Italian father hasn’t ever thrown anything away because one day it might be useful or some day he might get around to fixing it.

I have been inheriting, collecting and sometimes stealing scrap materials for over 25 years. Tax forms from the 1970s, dried-out erasers, broken game pieces and the backside of almost anything. I cherish an electric bill from 1986 the way others would covet valuable family jewels — then I sculpt it into, say, a tiny sleeper sofa that fits into an outstretched palm or a lacy bra that stretches across an expanse of wall.

After further contemplation, observation and exploration these constructions become the subjects of many animations. Playfully glorifying life in the interstices, transforming the detritus of the everyday into tributes to the rich messiness of quotidian rituals.

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