I draw my inspiration from creatures made of legends and abstracted armor forms. The kitsune in particular calls to me. Often seen as both a protector and a problem, the kitsune lives in many roles depending on the myth. I find them endearing and elusive while wolves and dragons are stoic and honorable and strong. They exist in my mythos too, as things greater than me. They are family and friends. But the kitsune I keep close. They are my guardians.  

The work I’ve been aspiring to make are the ones that tell stories, give information through a form. They exist in a state of guarding, of defending, transforming, of burning, of decay. Created mostly from cast forms, chains, in the form of pieces of armor or figurines; cuffs, gorgets, chunky rings and necklaces, cloaks, chain mail, and talisman. When I create a creature, they’re fanged and clawed. When I create armor they’re spiked and scaled. 

They’re moments in my life of loneliness, weakness. So I make them out of something solid to hold on to. I make them in the way I feel. Like compulsion. Like I want the world to see me as I am, but when they look I lock myself inside. “Don’t come any closer.” I want to say.  I’m nothing without my armor; a mask to protect me. What happens when I let the world in? Who will they find? What will they do? 

It’s slow going, but I’m learning to let go of this loneliness, my compulsion to hide. I’m learning to let go of my armor. Letting it burn seems to be the most appropriate way. The process of burning something acts as catharsis. And I chose to fill the holes in my plating with something much softer; felt, fibers, thread. They’re imperfect, dripping and torn forms that could represent me, if I even knew what I was in the first place. But they feel right when they crawl out of the unfinished and burned edges of their metal casings.