Lolo, Montana
I dug this piece by hand on a ranch in Lolo, Montana, using only a shovel and a 5-gallon soup pot. It was the size of an in-ground swimming pool—huge, heavy, and slow to take shape. Sometimes a puppy helped. Sometimes people passing by would stop and offer a hand for a while. I designed it as a massive yoga prop, a place to lie down and stretch, to breathe, and to look up. The contours of the form naturally framed the sky, encouraging stillness and upward attention. When it felt complete, I filled it back in by hand—the same way I had dug it. It was a practice in presence and impermanence, as much about the process as the final form.

Various Locations
I started this series by slicing a beet in half, climbing into a birch tree, and rubbing the beet into the bark until the branch turned a vibrant pink. It’s a slow process—sometimes a full afternoon for just one limb—but I love the pace of it. It’s quiet work that creates a loud surprise. The altered trees blend in until they don’t. People would stop mid-step and look up, trying to figure out what they were seeing. That pause, that unexpected jolt of curiosity or joy, is the reason I do it. I’ve made beet trees in several places now, and each one feels like planting a question in the sky.

Missoula, Montana
“Puddles” are polished stainless steel mirrors I placed flat on sidewalks, paths, and open fields. When people walked by, they’d suddenly see the sky on the ground. Some were startled, others laughed. It flipped the world for a second—made them stop, notice where they were, and usually, look up. Like much of my work, this piece was about shifting perspective with a light touch. No signs, no instructions—just a quiet nudge toward something bigger than the moment we’re usually in.