I come from meadows and mountains where dogs howl late at night to a smiling moon. My life was carved from the forests of the last frontier and doused in the light of the aurora borealis. The first time I went to a dentist I was a teenager. The man with a shiny office and handfuls of sharp tools marveled at how it was possible to raise a child in such contrast to modern society and not have any rotten spots, a social security number or more than one pair of shoes. That pristine space burned a notion in me about the wild things colliding with the machine molded things and how that relationship can inspire or terrify at any given moment. Looking closely at my work, from the very beginning, it has always asked, “how does the natural and person-made coincide, conflict, build-up and tear down? What does my own resistance or acceptance lend to this life of art?”
Looking closely at the threads woven into the tapestry of my life and work; the last 27 years have found me filling walls with magical lands, constructing mythical spaces to inspire children, exploring the depths of purpose through textiles, unearthing fears of commercialism and selling out. I’ve layered trash with glue until it resembles Art, raked soil into prize winning gardens and finally I stand in a few rooms that was once an elementary school I attended for 1/2 a term… 48 houses ago. I question why I’m here, what I’m making, how I’m compelled to lure myself in the game of creation and ultimately where it is taking me to next. Nature vs. Person…
I make because I must.