Everyone tells stories. Humanity tells itself stories about itself and its place through science, history, philosophy, etc. When these stories are completed we can say with some conviction 'these are facts'. But what about the stories we as individuals tell ourselves to interpret our reality and our place?  Are these stories completable? When we examine our private stories do we find facts? Or do Identities emerge by the recognition of a process which mediates between stories, always fluctuating due to our own fallibility and proximity to the subject?      
Emerging from the gaps caused by the conflict between purity of intention and the impossibility the work to represent fully that which is incomplete, comes a story which is always tentative, ephemeral and transitive = whimsical. Through obtuse symbolism, line, lines, repetition, layering; these stories are open yet obscured, and perhaps the more illuminated for that.

(F. Mackay)