Born and raised in Dupont Circle, Washington, DC.

I draw using colour chalk pastels on large sheets of printmaking paper. I draw large images of neighborhood market places where I have lived and traveled, vendors, butcher shops with an emphasis on meat. At first, it was a way to navigate my neighborhoods, and soon after, it became quite obvious to me that meat is one of the main signifiers of culture, identity, and market capitalism. The discussion of meat has become so expansive that it relates to every corner of society from climate change, land ownership, class structure, immigration, to the work force, health policies, political leveraging, gender identity, sensuality, and of course religion. And this, I find this fascinating. Living in DC over the years, the vortex of the "voice of the people," I’ve seen millions of people gather her streets, the clever political signs and compassionate voices left an indelible mark on my creative spirit. And so naturally, I am attracted to places with street culture.

I lived in New York City for about 15 years. At the same time, I became interested in using photography as part of the process of my art and started to document and make little homage’s to my immediate surroundings, my favorite being my Chinatown NY Series. Every day, walking and weaving through the back streets taking pictures of the restaurant window then going back to my apt, I would tack up a piece large piece of paper and start to draw that window display, that scene of every day life, glimpses of what pedestrians may catch while walking down the street without taking notice but which could describe a community in a single image. My drawings are as large and interactive as the window displays itself, and sometimes seem to fall right off the page. Essentially, I am bringing the street inside, transporting one community into another. Food can do this whether it's a table setting, wall setting, or street setting.

In my Chinatown NYC Series, layered images such as the reflection of a building behind me, a vehicle, or even hand grease on the window are visible. In my later Cairo Eid Series, the blood in the crevices of old cobbled stones suddenly appeared as Islamic motifs on prayer rugs and given the natures of the context, I continued on with this design. Those revelations are always welcome and exciting.
I lived in Cairo, Egypt for two years from November of 2010 to September 2012. When I arrived, the city was celebrating Eid al-Adha, also known as the Feast of the Sacrifice, one of the most important Islamic holidays. After a month of fasting for Ramadan, Muslims around the world, honour the story of the Prophet Ibrahim by sacrificing cows, goats, and sheep in the streets and then sharing the meat with the family and the poor. I am obsessed with food, meat imagery, ritual, and street culture and so naturally, I was totally fascinated by all this excitement.

My Cairo Eid Series shows more than the limited characterizations of Egypt or Islam. My work is about community, and about portraiture. Meandering around Cairo, passing by outdoor butcher stalls, I took portraits of loving fathers hugging their young sons, little girls playing with cow heads next to their mothers, and teen boys smiling, showing off their muscles all surrounded by tables of animal legs stacked like firewood.

My experience of Eid was not about fear, killing of animals, or even about witnessing something culturally diverse. Eid was about movement, pattern, and relationships. I stood in the streets watching men wrestle with goats trying to stuff these blurred shapes into the back of taxies, or teams of men yelling and swearing, attempting to subdue large cows and I just kept thinking of Francis Bacon’s wrestlers and contorted figures, just trying to recall gestures, painterly snapshots of ecstasy and suffering... Standing up close, I saw those men laugh, grimace, men holding down resisting warm animals, both men and animals breathing hard, their chests pressed tightly to each other… Slaughter is physical, laborious, and messy. Egyptians know where their meat comes from and how animals die. Ultimately, I collected fleeting moments, these intimate exchanges of touch, respect. I saw vulnerability, gratitude.

I became a public arts curator when I lived in New York City. It was out of necessity and ingenuity, that I created ways to exhibit my work, I needed to show my artwork and not letting the market slow me down, I learned on the job, how to produce and curate multi-media art exhibitions and invited many people to join me in my extravagant projects. It never occurred to me to NOT curate my own shows. While I've used the conventional white box galleries, I truly prefer to utilize alternative public venues, transforming them into magical oasies, playing with ideas of collaboration and performance. I created two festivals called Dining Haul and Cochon Ball where I used a fleet of 26 ft parked trucks which mechanically lifted hundreds of viewers into each truck's cavity showcasing one artist per truck; conceived of decadent meals feasting in the kitchens of 5-star restaurants while artists reworked the menus and hung their artwork above the tables; re-envisioned vacant meat lockers hanging art on meat hooks; for Cochon Ball in Louisiana, I used an apocalyptic brickyard and an unused urban field to set up human fooseball games, provided unique team costumes while James Beard Award winning chefs and artists roasted pigs in the goalie boxes, etc...celebrating oral histories of Louisiana boudin sausage makers, pop up free health clinics, farmer's markets, and native food going extinct from America.

I have collaborated with over 100 artists, musicians, writers, chefs, restaurants, organic farmers, urban market networks, local free/affordable health clinics, historical preservation organizations, magazines, and lots of sponsors.

Each of these events is free and open to the public. We encourage the participation of a diverse audience.

Art is physical, and everyone wants to see and to touch art, they want to make sure it’s there.