"We are so lightly here." -- Leonard Cohen

The disquiet of bearing witness and the longing and loneliness after loss echo in the body.
I reveal the underbelly, not veil it. The harshness and honesty of the Texas farm where I grew up part-time directly opposed that of my sanitized, suburban life in a family focused on fleeting aesthetics.
My scientific family and a career in organ transplantation and wound care research fostered a fascination with the unseen intricacies underneath the skin. Surgical knots as synapses within chaotic webs of connection. Weaving alludes to traps, veins, channels, home, and women’s voices.
As a plastic surgeon’s daughter, suturing and slicing come naturally after frequently observing surgeries. Sculptural materials are often twisted, tethered, and sutured, embodiments of human frailty and the need for visibility beyond the aesthetic gaze.
Shapes are figurative turned inside-out; The focus is viscera, blood, bone, and energy.

Simultaneous becoming and eroding. Exoskeletons concurrently glisten with newness and molt in
decay. Membranes are dense and fragile, an outer armor and permeable to light, air, space, energy. A
voyeuristic glimpse into the interior. Bones transform after long term exposure to the elements.
Symbols of decay alter into pictures of rebirth.
Horsehair reminds me of the horse barn on the Texas farm where I spent my childhood weekends. To escape the household dynamics, I retreated to the barn. Horses demand honesty or they might kick you in the head. Horsehair is tactilely seductive, a veil, and a symbol of strength. My hair reveals the truth
about my chronic illness. Found, old barbed wire reminds me of the scars on my body, railroad tracks from prior surgeries belying events and a past. Glass ampoules encased medicine for my husband…hope served up in vials.