I am a writer, reader, artist, filmmaker, sewer, adventurer, friend, sister, daughter, person.
Standing at the edge of some body of water, waves gently rocking against your ankles, you breathe and dig your toes into the sand. This scene is not just about a catalogue of feelings. It is about a relationship, an exchange, a reciprocal comfort that begins at the seam between your feet and the ground. True, you and the beach remain objectively separate, but in an even truer sense, you no longer feel entirely separate from the beach, the lake, the earth.
At the center of what I make is my desire to understand where my feet are on this earth and how that connects to my relationship with my own body. I strive to understand the facets of care, courage, gratefulness, and comfort offered by the places we inhabit and how social issues and climate change can interrupt those exchanges.
Soft-bodied characters, gentle atmospheric watercolor, woven graphite lines, and old or wasted materials sourced from local shops set the scene in my work. These elements act like the mise-en-scene of a story or like the background of a map, connecting everything with grey lines, warm colors, and the roughness of a work in progress. From there, I digitally collage them together to form animations or stills to project onto ceramic sculptures, tapestries of old sheets, and more. Technology is often seen as the antithesis of nature, but I see it as a way to connect all the unconnectable parts of my work, as a way to reconstruct body and landscape together. These modern legends of caring, of reciprocity, of place and identity, deal with sometimes solemn or spiritual experiences, but even so, I try not to take them too seriously. Occassionaly I used cartoonish figures and imperfect lines to be both playful, inviting, and to recall childhood openness. Through my stories, I seek to remind us that we, as physical beings, are irreversibly connected to this physical world and that, in the end, all of this is the story of feeling together.