My work is a material daydream; a thing barely there. After I experience something in the world, the studio answers a simple question for me: What would that look like? This series emerged on drives along dark highways during which I questioned the knowing voice of GPS maps. If measurement is defined as marks we use to gauge something, what happens when the marks outsize our ability to feel? I understand a 50-foot extension cord, but tell me to turn right in 1,000 feet and my brain goes funny. I make stuff as a filter for these irrational encounters or moments of fuzzy logic. To define form, I align myself with existing or self-defined systems, set them into motion, and allow things to happen. The system here is the Dudeen Color Triangle from 1910, which proposes systematic tonal sequencing through the use of color chords. The works in this series bring together thirds, fourths, and fifths of color as dyed silk. Ideas of rhythmic repetition, spatial unfurling, and infinite reverie are explored on barely-there surfaces.