By dousing my canvases and drawings with a plethora of high-octane colors, kaleidoscopic line work, and irregular compositions, I explore the symbiotic nature of life and confront the collective taboo around death. Flowers, insects, and my own body undergo a forensic exploration, inspired by the book, Japanese Death Poems, written by Zen monks and haiku poets, compiled by Yoel Hoffman and published by Tuttle. In 1823, the poet Kiku, aged 52 and on his deathbed, composed the haiku that spurred my current work: That which blossoms falls, the way of all flesh in this world of flowers.