My work begins where the body becomes memory, where the surfaces we inhabit soften, fray, and reveal their quieter structures. I move between oil painting, woven string, and bent wood to explore how identity stretches, breaks, and reforms under pressure.

Woven patches interrupt painted faces, rupturing each painting to repair it, and allow it to function as a painting, as we continue to move and function as people while mending psychological tears. The are scars and they are bridges. Memory is not a clean archive but a woven terrain, full of gaps, repetitions, distortions. In my installations, wooden frames curve like ribs or limbs, holding suspended cloth and string that drift between presence and absence.

Each of these practices is informed by traditional practices. I weave on a four-harness loom from the 20th century, which was given to me by an artist who was given the loom by another artist who made her promise to do the same. I bend oak, a hardwood traditionally used for furniture. I take tradition, and I warp it.

I also write artist statements, as you can see.