The idea of an object being able to transmit some sort of intangible meaning about both the maker who crafted it and the culture it will pass through is incredibly compelling to me. The notion that hours spent forming these “things”, coaxing them into being, also somehow imbues them with vital pieces of ourselves and our times is an invigorating way to look at the material culture surrounding us.
In my own craftwork, I am concerned with memory and time. The vessels that we make to try and keep and hold things — whatever they may be — say a great deal about what is most important to us. While I make pieces that are intended to “stay” or hold onto a thought or feeling, I intentionally use paper or other fiber material that is less permanent than other mediums might be. I choose to do so because that dichotomy of wanting to preserve something forever within a relatively ephemeral shell acts as a haunting form of persuasive poetry.
I strive to make work that inhabits the space between the internal and the external, and I continually gain inspiration from scientific discoveries and other sources that help us to understand the natural world and our place in the universe. Through my work, I continually learn more about myself, my circumstances, and my surroundings, and my artwork is a way of sharing the journey of discovery, notions, and revelations with others.
However, as exciting as these ideas are, at the end of the day I am a studio artist who is still passionately captivated with capturing the light quality of the parts of the world that are dear to me. I could elaborate more about exhibitions and awards, but what I would like people to know about my twenty year body of work is that I am mostly concerned with what I call “witnessing traces.” Traces of humans and animals that may have passed through the snow in the night, traces of smoke from vast raging wildfires that consume our region every summer that make it impossible to see the sun except for a few scarce glimpses of a fierce red-orange orb. Traces of the light in our atmosphere that is continually changing, and can become a kind of haunting almanac of our passing days in this land. Traces of a world and time that, if not perceived by human eyes or human cultures, may not ever have been witnessed, noted, and shared.