For many years, I have used images of chromosomes and 
cellular mitosis in my paintings, sculptures and 
installations. The blurry, nascent shapes of chromosomes 
I know from electron microscope photographs are eerie
representations of our primal selves: physical, yet 
metaphysical; gendered yet nongendered; figurative, 
yet nonfigurative.

In "Mitosis," my recent series of works on mattresses, 
the mattress is appropriated as a metaphor for the 
cellular structure. Like cells, mattresses are modular 
units that are both personal and universal. They are 
generic, rectangular forms upon which we leave our most 
intimate marks. Mattresses are evidence of our most 
personal selves, as well as the loci of earthly pleasures 
and life's most basic experiences -- sleep, birth, death.

I use a variety of media to explore the essence of 
coupling -- on the micro and the macro levels. The forms 
and gestures of mitosis (or cell division) -- an elemental 
drama of merging, separation, and transformation -- appear 
in my paintings on canvas, as well as on mattresses and 
other media. In a series of paintings on records,  
couples -- in the guise of the familiar double Xs of the 
human chromosome -- are airbrushed onto the surface of 
vinyl records. LPs are remarkably like DNA themselves: 
that is, coils of encoded information that unfold in time. 
These records are then embedded in squares of polyester 
resin, resulting in a kind of stained-glass window effect.

In these juxtapositions of the micro and the macro, the 
elemental and the temporal, I hope to illuminate what it 
means to be human.