I began this series in 2016 to discover and share the beauty of natural things. I focus on small organic materials, trying to understand their spirit. Making these works has brought me comfort and healing during times of profound grief, the intensity and isolation of the pandemic, aging, and life change. 

Walking in the woods has taught me to see natural beauty. This series asks a different question: what about the beauty I live with every day at home? A melon, vegetables, pencils, a medicine jar, a screwdriver? I look closely at familiar and everyday objects to discover new sides.

This series imagines the alternate lives of natural materials, reborn into art. I try to follow where the objects lead, watching the shapes, gestures, and grain to see what new things they are becoming. 

I'm drawn to thresholds: doors, windows, gates, and deep in-between spaces. These works include literal passages, and portals where the physical and spiritual brush close and intertwine. A passage can be ordinary and profound at the same time.

These works express my grief after our younger son died. I wrestled with how the world can be fractured and whole at the same time, how brokenness and rebuilding can share the same ground. I turned to weather-battered homes, broken bridges, and trees bent hard and snapped, deeply changed yet still standing. 

Crows fill the air where I live, bickering and bantering. In this series, I create black birds out of baptisia seed pods. In a time of deep grief, I’ve seen the the pods’ mirrored halves as an expression of mortality, spirit, and continuing connection after death. Over time, the crows have come back to being just crows, too, their cacophony and tomfoolery surrounding me.