Left Behind and Gone Beyond.

I am not compulsive. I am analytical, methodical and calculated. I spend weeks (often months) researching and writing before I attempt to create anything. This is why I was so surprised with myself and the beginnings of what I have affectionately been referring to as the Mud Prints. In graduate school, the researching and writing are expected, …

Pillar.

The house was ablaze, but I feared looking back. What if I too were a pillar of salt?       Pillar, 2018 4.24" x 5'10" found photographs, metal, wax, dirt The column of light boxes speak to my religious upbringing and continuous struggle with justifying my leaving home. The poem references the biblical story …

Lessons From Home.

At the age of 19, I broke off my engagement and left the rural farming community in which I was raised. Lessons from Home explores what could have been if I had stayed. Each vignette combines specific memories with stereotypes, expectations and idealizations of place.

Mementos.

Everything is a work in process. Here is a look at graduate school semester two, a sneak peek of what has been happening in my studio. How do you document a place you no longer have access to, a place that is two thousand miles away? Before I left Ohio and drove thirty hours across …

A Real Object.

I came to Tucson with a box full of dirt from Wyandot County knowing it would be my only connection to my home for months. I dug ten separate holes from ten different locations of significance to my life (my parents childhood homes, my elementary school, etc.) and put the dirt in individually labeled zip …

Little Circles.

I don't like the idea of things coming full circle - too much finality. What I instead stand behind is the idea of little circles - a life full of hundreds of endings meeting hundreds of beginnings, overlapping to create something interesting, dynamic and ever-changing. I like thinking that something that may seem like an …

Sweet Monotony.

We could never have loved the earth so well if we had had no childhood in it, if it were not the earth where the same flowers come up again every spring that we used to gather with our tiny fingers as we sat lisping to ourselves on the grass. What novelty is worth that sweet …

Haunts.

Haunt (v.) - to recur persistently to the consciousness of; remain with Haunt (n.) - a place frequently visited I am making haunts. Both my mother and fathers childhood homes and the first house I lived in - all three gone to us now.  The places we began.  My parents homes represent a life before they were aware of one-anothers existence (a concept fascinating to me).  Mine is …

It Is Me.

These rags are a beautiful, emotional, mess.  They smell horrendous and instantly transport me to a childhood spent around cars in the garage with my father.  The colors are warm and inviting - flesh.  They beg to be touched, handled, which mimics how they were made.  Their creation served a purpose, having a very specific, useful job.  They are shop …

I Wrote This.

For my Art Therapy class we had to make a self-portrait; so I made this. (please don't judge my disgusting feet) We also had to write a paper about it; so I wrote this. I wanted to make something little, something that could be transported easily, something that felt intimate and personal, safe yet uncomfortable. …