Yes, there’s art history influence in my practice stemming from the Surrealists, Futurist’s, Byzantine, ancient Rome, and anime. But I think if I really trace it back, it all begins with Paul Verhoeven’s original 1987 film Robocop; a film which nobody I knew was allowed to see because we were all 5 or 6 years old and it was extremely R rated (bordering on NC-17.) I remember telling my friends I saw it to which they replied: “How did your parents allow that?” Short explanation: my mom was a crazy hippy.

Robocop came out way before robots were as insanely in vouge like today. So it was this fusion of technology and organic matter in a way where — if you've ever seen Robocop one — I mean, it's disturbing. It's like his face is pulled over this mechanical apparatus, like this intricate brainstem fusing with some retro circuit board.

And like what parts of him are still there?
His genitalia?
Does he have a stomach, intestines?
I think so because he eats baby food but you don't really know because it's all contained behind an impenetrable titanium shell.

So it was this idea of what's underneath things, and the construction of things, seeing things incomplete or still being formed — along with the fusion of organic and mechanical — that was imprinted into my young, artsy psyche way before I ever even had a say in the matter. Nowadays the manifestation of synthetic biology, 3D printing, gene hacking; where you’re using biology to create new biopolymers, cure genetic disease, and grow real, everyday objects — and that line between what separates human-made and nature, it only feels more blurred, and so more relevant than ever. We all know at some level everything is atoms, but then at some level it's separate.

Where is that level?

So it really all comes back to seeing Paul Verhoeven’s Robocop at way, way, way too young of an age, so that I spent the next 20 years of my life just drawing and sculpting cyborgs being constructed and separated.

Most of what I create is an evolution of this concept in how biology connects to technology.
The graphic imagery I witnessed in Robocop when I was fucking six; I really think that's what everything traces back to; that's where everything came from.

And I can't seem to make work that I'm not interested in. I have ideas, but I'm not interested in the ideas unless they connect to that.
I think it speaks to childhood influence. I think it speaks to the impact the things we experienced as kids have on us.
And I also think it speaks to how, with art, there is a meaning behind everything, and that how art does produce new art and those produce new ideas.
And so many of us like to pretend that what we are, and what we do is meaningless, but really everything we do: you, me, everybody, we're all part of a continuum, and it's a real thing. And that continuum is what matters. That's the only thing that really matters. Our own individual lives only matter insomuch as they do in the sense of this gigantic continuum.

Ultimately, for better or worse, I'm going have to credit my artistic practice to the 1987 film Robocop as my main inspiration, and with all that said, I guess really, I couldn’t have asked for a better teacher.

So in short; thanks Paul.