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Lately, there seem to be more and more disasters in the world. With earthquakes, hurricanes, oil spills and wars permeating our daily consciousness, it appears that the speed of modern life does not give us time to consider and plan for critical situations. In this scope of the Earth's power, we become little ants and flies, dying by the thousands in disasters and conflicts.

The shell as a protective vessel has always been an enigma for me; how does the mollusk transform such tiny particles into such a beautiful dwelling? How has it stumbled upon such intricate yet effective architectural structures? The shell represents the enigma of all creatures — the urge to live.

When I hear the latest news, my urge is to hide, to escape, to find a secure place to find my shell. My sculptures, the shell dwellers, are beings conjured from an alternate universe where that urge can be immediately gratified; everyone carries their security around with them at all times. But more than that, they also carry around their stories for everyone to see. People they met float around their face while beaches, bridges and city-scapes cover their shells. Their fresco-like shell surfaces are modern-day versions of the ruins of Pompeii, where a language of pictures communicated to people from all walks of life and many parts of the world. Although I may want to hide at times, I know we can find common understanding among our stories if we show them to others.