My work is one of disclosure, using life events as inspiration for forks involving paint, photography, collage, needlework, sculpture and installation. Early on I was surrounded by women who spent much of their time doing needlework and working in their gardens. Much later I realized those practices and traditions were part of my artistic expression.
I, too, spent years seriously gardening. I’ve journaled and written otherwise about it. I have always been fascinated by and influenced by the full cycle of blooming and dying. The winter garden’s role of returning to the earth is the most beautiful of all the seasonal gardens. As the quest to deal with death and decay are squarely before me at this stage of life, I’d like to think my artwork reflects this fragile, graceful element of what remains and what is lost.
My early early years were spent in Southern Illinois. I earned a BA and MFA at Southern Illinois University in Edwardsville Illinois. I later relocated to St. Petersburg, Florida where an art community thrives. I currently have studio space in the ArtLofts, a community of artists which provides constant stimulation and collaboration.
Let me mention again: my education at SIU. The masters is in fiber with a minor in painting. The graduate work at SIU in the fibers department turned my journey around. Working with Paulette Meyers was inspiring. She saw and directed where my journey could go.
My art took on a dimension recognizable by its torn edges, uneven dyes and shadowy expressionist themes. The body of work as a whole resonates with a soothing, earthy color palette, subtle textures, rich layering of imagery and pattern, and hints of my intellectual journey through life and art-making. The style of "imperfect" was in my head during my formal education and remains a factor today. Fascination with textiles includes studies in the world of "fashion as art". I continue to paint but more and more my paintings mirror the work in fiber and the other way around.
Today I've come to understand that what defines an artist may be not so much the great ideas snatching at eternity as the tinkering, the grubbing in the dirt, the quiet attention to the most seemingly ordinary and insignificant details.
And what continues infinitely is recognition of the process of what remains and what is lost; the quest to reconcile with death and decay is instinctive and always present. I require that this subject doesn't become the overwhelming focus but a fragile, graceful element. I insist on the element of beauty, it must exist. If it seems mysterious, it would be only to the viewer. Every bit of it makes perfect sense.