Living in a city, its hard to deny that architecture isn’t just something that contains us, but also something that defines us. It shapes our experiences by establishing boundaries and limits, and creates social opportunities through the proximity it puts us in with other humans.

Architecture contains history. Often times it is unspoken, but the inhabitants of buildings - most acutely the apartment dweller - experience the same space that many have before them.

I recently learned that part of the house I grew up in was long ago built as a barn that stored harvests from a nearby orchard. At some point it was extended to include a workshop for the manufacture of cedar fence posts, and was later converted it into a summer house for a couple from Queens, NY. Today, as a regular looking family home, its history is by no means apparent, even to those that have lived there. But the history of this century old structure has shaped the lives of its inhabitants, and in the same way the needs of the inhabitants have shaped the space.

The body of work presented here is concerned with the volume contained within a structure. From the outside a building appears to be a solid mass - a block you have to walk around rather than through. I task myself with providing an alternate view to this by stripping the surface and looking beneath the exterior. My aim is to survey the space that exists in relation to the lines and planes that compose architecture. I consider the space in a historical context as well as a physical one. By extracting architecture from its site and treating it as an object I can examine it as a specimen and wonder about how the constraints of space impact our behavior.

I’m looking at the relationship between positive and negative, interior and exterior, space verses material, object vs container, third floor vs ground and ultimately the impact that these structures have on those who experience them day-to-day.