My work is open and lonely at times, emphasizing singular moments rather than crowds, indulging not in what humans are doing but how what they have done exists afterwards. My work is pale and full—full of space, full of what is there in life and also the strange spots where things don't exist. Where is the ghost sitting on the couch? Who was in this yard years ago?

My work is native to the life I've lived. It is northern: full of room, at times bare or open, at times serious. It is full of life, however. I do not aim for symmetry always but find comfort in it. My work is static and unmoving, in hopes that the frozen thing explains what came before; in hopes that the action that brought it to where it is will be imagined  by the viewer, and through their involvement, made more valuable. 

My artistic pursuit is to chase the strange and insubstantial among the common places we walk. 

My work for others is intentional, stripped of exaggeration in favor of the truth. What does this look like in it's native stance, I ask? 

I always have a vision before I close the shutter, which is a blessing and a curse, like all things. 

– Words by Eric Westerlind