My creative life originated with my mother. As an artist, environmental activist and child of the Depression, she was determined to save everything from the broken bits of our household furnishings to the entire natural world. I grew up surrounded by my father’s family antiques—worn relics that my mother treated like honored guests, not daring to discard them even after they became useless. As a child it bothered me to see all those old things sitting around our house looking so sad and purposeless.

Venturing out into the world, I obtained a degree in Psychology and set out to fix people. For a number of years I worked as an activity therapist in psychiatric hospitals doing art with patients, and later decided to get a degree in art therapy. That led instead to a Masters in Fine Art and doing art of my own.

I think of my work as a love letter to leftovers, and of myself as a steward of materials that matter. My sculptural assemblages and site-specific installations utilize materials that have been neglected or rejected, yet refuse to be unseen. Their quiet refusal is a powerful form of resistance. I choose materials with a rich visual history and vulnerability to the processes of time. These objects possess a directness and authenticity that speaks of survival.

Survival itself is a form of resistance. In a culture where neither the female nor the old are valued, my work says otherwise. I believe beauty and worth lie in choosing one’s own way, knowing one’s value and knowing no one can take that away. Worth comes not from being part of the status quo; it comes from standing outside and defining from the inside. Each time a woman chooses to be who she is rather than who the culture tells her she must be, the world shifts.

As a response to our culture’s obsession with buying and consuming things, I ask the viewer to slow down, look closely, and reconsider unquestioned beliefs about beauty and value. My work challenges assumptions about what we deem sacred, worth keeping and protecting. My found object works reference a time when nature and the feminine were honored and objects were cherished rather than discarded. My installations are a visual wake-up call to all the “things” we are losing - not just material goods, but our fundamental sense of humanity and care.

As a woman and as an artist, I’m persistent in reaching for what is real and finding ways I can most effectively express that through my work. It is the quiet voice beneath the noise that says the choice is ours.

And laughter helps too!