2008 saw the maturation of Khora series of works, which had earlier been started in 2007. These works, which were large and highly textured, were inspired by a study in the philosophical critiques of Jacques Derrida and John D. Caputo, who both referred to "khora," a Greek word originally used by Plato in Timaeus to describe a "womb" or "matrix" out of which the Forms came. Both Caputo and Derrida's critiques were in the light of deconstruction. Derrida described khora as a sort of ultimate otherness that defies all attempts at categorization or naming—a "stuff" or substance even that invades language and warrants deconstruction. Caputo takes this critique further in his book The Weakness of God and compares khora to a primordial clay out of which the Rabbinical YHWH forms the world. While khora, in his view, is still "fully other" as it was for Derrida, for Caputo it contains a unique creative potential, perhaps even an infinite potential, present alongside its innately chaotic and ambiguous nature. At one point in the book, he wonders aloud what a picture of such a primordial substance might look like. I took this to be a literal challenge and the Khora series was my attempt at such imagery.

While the first few works in the series were more concerned with the similarity in the concept between Khora and an eternal void (creating works like Khora #1, pictured), later works emphasized the other, perhaps more colorful permutations of the khora subject. I experimented with various materials including latex house paint, roof cement, tile grout, shellac, colored inks, and graphite powder in order to create a coagulated substance that was both flexible enough to remain on a canvas without breaking, yet retain a highly textured, almost scab-like surface. Once I was comfortable with the kind of materials I was working with I set about manipulating them, as much as could be allowed, to create pictures that mimicked glaciers, oil pools, coral, and cave walls. Nearly all the works were created by mixing together the paints and then pouring them onto the canvas, then spreading and molding them as they dried. The canvas would be tipped in order to make the material run down and create pools. In all of this, it was clear that the brush stroke, or the proverbial "mark" that was so important to Abstract Expressionism had to be deleted in order to give the Khora pictures the otherworldliness the subject (or non-subject, as it were) required. In the end, the goal became to create austere-looking entities, rather than pictures. Rather than images of khora, the Khora works were meant to be permutations of khora itself, at least in concept and in presence, if not in substance. Because such a metaphysical substance could never be captured or pictured, much less even defined due to its nature, the aim was to bring Khora into our world rather than bring us into it's—and ultimately the concept of an invasive, meditative presence stretched on a canvas seemed much more plausible than just a "picture." The process of creating the works, in my opinion, mimicked or simulated the chaotic interactivity and potential nature of khora, if only in an ultimately inadequate way, and the finished work, when dried, mirrored that chaotic nature in a frozen wall of unrecognizable substance.

Later in 2008 the Khora series gave way to a new series of works on paper that were a grand departure from the Khora works, reintroducing the mark and even figurative elements. These works incorporate written words (often titled after the words written on them) and partial figures, usually faces. Their nature is much more expressive than the starkly alien and philosophically-inspired images of the Khora series, though they still carry some of the previous works' confrontational nature. The change in emphasis was mostly due to a limitation in studio space, and if a suitable place for the Khora works are found again that series may continue into 2009.