There are times when something in us begins to shift—
even if we can’t fully explain it.
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The life we’ve built may still look the same on the outside,
but inside, something feels quieter… or more distant than it once did.
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We may find ourselves listening more closely—
for something we can’t quite name,
but can feel moving beneath the surface of our everyday lives.
Much of my life has been shaped by a quiet practice of listening —
listening for the deeper threads that move beneath the surface of our everyday lives.
That listening has taken many forms over the years, emerging through
painting, writing, and the textile pieces that now come out of my studio.
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Each medium gives shape to something that is often difficult to name:
the quiet ways we change, the truths our bodies carry,
and the places where loss, love, spirit, and memory meet.
My work is less about creating objects than it is about giving form
to those moments when we remember something essential about who we are.
LISTENING FOR THE THREADS
For many years painting was the language that carried this exploration. Through color, texture, and form
I began following the threads of my own life — the experiences that shaped me,
the questions that would not leave me alone, and the slow unfolding
of what it means to live honestly within one’s own life.
Over time that exploration began to move beyond the canvas.
Some parts of the journey became writing.
Others led me in an unexpected direction — back into working with my hands in a different way.
THE BODY REMEMBERS
During my recovery from cancer I felt a strong pull toward materials that offered a different kind of sensation.
After so much time living inside the language of illness and treatment,
I found myself longing for softness — for textures that could be touched and held.
I began working with cloth simply as a way of following that need.
The first piece I created was a pillow for my sister.
She lived far away, and I wanted to send her
something that could hold the comfort I couldn't offer in person.
In that simple gesture I began to notice something deeper:
how profoundly our bodies remember through touch.
Our bodies carry memories that thought cannot reach.
They respond to texture, warmth, weight, and sensation in ways
that awaken something older and wiser than the mind.
The textile forms that now emerge from my studio grew from that realization.
They invite a different relationship with the work —
one experienced through the senses and through the body itself.
In that way they have become an essential thread in the larger journey
of remembering that moves through all of my work.
Other reflections appear more quietly — through journal pieces, essays, and articles
that explore the themes that continue to move through my life and work.
These writings often arise in the midst of lived experience, capturing
the insights and questions that surface as the journey continues.
In the end, the paintings, the writing, and the textile forms are not separate practices.
They are simply the ways I have learned to listen to my life.
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Each piece is another thread in that listening —
a small attempt to give form to what is being remembered.
If something in you feels a quiet recognition here…
you don’t have to figure out where to begin.
You can start here.
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There are also quieter, in-person ways of being with the work.
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Or, if you’d like to experience this work more directly:
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