In questioning the very nature of a thing, at its most basic level, a new assessment can be made of what the thing in question truly is. When we ask ourselves, what is a weed, we begin to pull the word apart - to decrypt the word from the cultural baggage that has collected around it over the course of the history of language.The cultural connotations of 'weed' cling to it like barnacles, removing the word from its true value. We reevaluate meaning, chronicling all the possible constructions of a word, all the possible varieties, where it came from, what its uses are, etc. We can then begin to develop an aggregate meaning based on an inherently more textured meaning, nuanced and built to sustain an elaboration of new information within the word itself. Weeds may serve as a successful metaphor for humanities quest for value, but it should not be assumed - we must first plot a course before we set sail.

How is nature conceived today, a generation into the environmental movement? Many contemporary artists grapple with how to reconcile our inheritance of both a precarious natural world and the culture that created it. My work investigates the subtle intricacies of our relationship with nature. I use photography to develop a way of seeing that points to the often-unnoticed nature in front of us. In particular, my work recognizes and re-imagines nature's deep connections in the context of our ecologically changed world.

Infusion is a gallery hotel that seeks to promote and encourage interaction between the local people of the community and traveling guests. More than just a hotel for rest and relaxation, Infusion will display a public gallery making art the universal language for their guests and the locals.

Locavore is a restaurant centered around the principles of sustainable agriculture: foodthat is organically, humanely, and sustainably raised from farms and cooperatives nofurther than 150 miles from Richmond - thus the "local" in Locavore. Like all restaurants,certain programmatic requirements were standard such as providing places to store,prepare, and eat the food, and restrooms. Yet the design of the space also helps answerthe following questions: How does sustainable differ from organic? Is local necessarily better than foreign? How does a restaurant embody community?

Breadfuit is a strange thing. It's a starchy potato-like sustenance not particularly noteworthy by most accounts. But it's history is amazing, an epic journey. Relocated from the Samoan island of Upalu to Oahu, Hawaii in the 12th Century as well as transplanted from Tahiti, as an economical food source for slaves in the West Indies in 1780 the lowly breadfruit has been held in the hands of Fletcher Christian, Captain Bligh, James Cook, King Kamehameha and innumerous other nameless individuals including Matt Spahr. This fruit contains the weight of colonialism, capitalism, exploration and tropical fantasy under its skin. The collision of histories such as these and the identities of related participants are the focus of the following essay.

Culture and a Connection In the Spanish province of Asturias, many homes built in the16th and 17th centuries are constructed of dry-stacked stone and large timbers for floor joists, rafters, decking. They are topped with large, irregularly shaped roof slates. Alongside many of these homes stands a rectangular granary called a cabazo. The cabazo, similarly constructed, is a stand-alone structure about twenty feet tall, six feet wide and twenty feet long. The main portion, (the storage area), stands ten feet off the ground atop two large, tapered columns. The upper level is typically separated form the lower level by a massive flat, horizontal stone that protrudes past the face of the columns. This one stone is the floor of the granary. The height above the ground and the continuous flat stone keep the food dry and safe from animals. The stone of the columns, quarried from nearby hills, consists of pieces as small as driveway gravel and as large as shoeboxes. Even though they were built of varying size stones the builders created large, extremely flat vertical planes. Two beams, roughly hewn from chestnut logs, span one column to the next, and support the storage area and roof. These curious structures, born from utility and perched on the hills of the Asturias countryside, have become local cultural icons. A record of visible human participation is left in the traces and details made by the tools of the workmen who built these cabazos. The traces make the connection between the structure and the hand of man, an immediate expression of the granary’s essence and thus an integral part of the local culture. The industrial age introduced powerful machinery into the tool set of the designer. Extruded steel and reinforced concrete enable designers to create monumental structures within relatively short periods of time. Although the advent of these methods signaled the loss of the record of human participation, the hand of man was also lost in the repetition and redundancy found on the factory floor. The scale of the effort was hidden and diluted by the machinery used to construct the modern forms. The absence of visible traces of the men who built the structures creates a disconnect between humans and the built environment. It is not feasible to go back to creating homes by stacking stones together or using hand tools to construct office buildings, but the materials that are produced by factories can become a new source of raw materials for designer and builder in a way that engages the craftsman. I believe that through the careful use of technology and materials, as well as the inclusion of the craftsman, an environment can be created that extends beyond formal appreciation and expresses a deeper connection between man, culture, and the built environment.

Through large sculptural works that are often caricatures of representational objects, my work explores the complicated moments and tangled histories of childhood Jewish schooling in Winnipeg and travels to Israel and Palestine as an adult. My thesis exhibition Collapse, as well as most of my graduate work, examines my investigation through manmade constructions that control and restrict or unite and connect the movement of others. Sculptures about a destroyed bridge’s imagined longing for exotic places, a giant onion serving as a resuscitation mechanism against tear gas or a construction crane to Armageddon are some examples of work that explore the poetry I find in dichotomies, and serve as a series of recollections that negotiate experiences beyond full understanding.

The proposal of this thesis project is an exploration of the relationship between music and the built space. The space chosen for design is the first two floors of the Lady Byrd Hat factory located at 140 Virginia St. in the Shockoe Slip area of Richmond, VA. This project proposes the design of the building for the purposes of a music center that will benefit the community by providing music therapy, music and vocal classes, a performance space, and a café. It is to be used as an instrument for communication, health, and education. The main users of the space are music educators, music therapists, music ensembles, students, patients, and audience members of performances. I began by studying the history of the building, evaluating the site, and studying the architecture of the building. I conducted a series of conditional studies based on the architecture of the building to analyze the form. I evaluated the structure, symmetry/ balance, geometry, entrances, levels, stairs, ramps, angles, and circulation of the building. Then I studied the building according to light/ dark, public/ private, loud/ quiet, warm/ cool, large space/ small space. Creating a series of concept models helped me to understand the building with its strong dissection of columns, circulation, usable areas, rhythm, and repetition. The development of a program for users' needs, square footage, and special design considerations for each area led to a series of floor plans. I then began arranging the usable areas within the building according to each areas design needs. After a study of musical instruments, I began conceptual drawings of the space. The design of the space evokes imagery of the built forms of instruments and the details they hold.

For my thesis, I have chosen to adapt the abandoned office/warehouse at 1207 North Boulevard for use as a community workshop for all of Richmond's urban neighborhoods. The community workshop's focus will be to provide open workshops, classes, a resource library and design consultation to low and middle income homeowners, affordable housing properties, and community parks. In addition, the center welcomes all of Richmond city residents to join and partake in 1207's resources in order to grow a multi-faceted community focused on improving the lives of all of Richmond City's residents. The center will function as a gathering space for all urban residents and will promote both the individual and the community through a ‘Do It Yourself' approach to home design and care that will instill pride and self reliance to all members of the community.

I seek to pose questions about what people overlook or don't consider when viewing art in order to interpret what they see. When working on a project, I purposely retain the effect of my hand. The false crudeness is enhanced by my use of seemingly impoverished materials. This is akin to seeing the fishing wire holding up the miniature spaceship as it flies through the sky. This document was created with Microsoft Word XP.