I grew up in rooms that held their breath… rooms that harbored the peculiar quiet of a child learning to become small. This is the emotional architecture from which my work is built. Memories excavated with archaeological precision, are then handled with the tenderness with which a child might hold an imaginary friend, or quietly camouflage herself among the natural world. Each piece is a vignette of my childhood… where loneliness was not simply an absence, but a presence that shaped me, room by room.

 

I collect objects that carry residue, artifacts and elegies of the 1970s, and assemble them into vignettes of my childhood. The scale, the spaces left empty, the objects chosen for resonance… all of it is choreographed to lessen the distance between your world and mine. This is my ultimate act of reaching: toward the viewer, toward connection, toward the hope that my world wasn’t as solitary as it felt when I was small.