Put yourself in the middle of a crowded intersection and observe. Watch the people passing, faceless, emotionless, foreign. Where is the transition point when any one of those faces ceases to be strange? How can a mob of faces look uniform and undefined, yet each one is so unique?

This question started a simple process for me to create a person void of my bias as a sculptor—my hands' tendency after forming countless faces to some unconscious ideal.

By only using elemental forces to form the most primitive structures, water, dirt, and gravity, each element, each piece of the face, is simply a loop of lifting and throwing the clay to the ground allowing the faces to emerge.