ARTIST STATEMENT

Three lasting influences shaped me as an artist. First, I essentially grew up in the museums of New York City. Art provided an alternative universe that kept me sane and hopeful during a chaotic childhood. I concluded that to be happy and whole, I needed to make art myself. I still recall specific works of art that brought me to this certitude. Through an art practice of 30 plus years, I came to recognize that creativity also gives hope and wholeness back to the world.

Second, I fell in love with Asian art. This led me to earn an MA in East Asian art history. I lived in Japan for several years as a Monbusho Fellow doing thesis research on calligraphy as the foundation of East Asian art and practiced brush calligraphy, with a wonderful Japanese artist, to understand its structure. I had planned to become an art historian, but instead, my experiences in Japan strengthened my resolve to make art. When I returned to the U.S., I completed my MA and went on to complete an MFA in drawing and painting. Studying Japanese aesthetics, and calligraphy in particular, fostered an approach to gesture, form, and space that still informs my image making.

Third, I moved to the Pacific Northwest in early adulthood, living as far afield as the Aleutian Islands and eventually settling in Bellingham. Living here has led me to cultivate a deeply personal relationship to nature, which has been a primary source of inspiration throughout my career.

As for my process, curiosity and discovery have always provided a compelling entry into image making for me. I think there are essentially two kinds of artists: those who come to the studio with an image in mind, ready to make it physical, and those who find their images through the work. I am of the latter variety. I often begin work without a plan, making marks and responding to them with more marks, building and erasing layers in the process of finding an image. The alchemy of line, color, and space coalescing into a meaningful whole is deeply compelling for me.

For most of my practice, my preferred materials have been painting and drawing. In 2016 I retired from teaching to focus fully on my studio practice. The gift of consistent, uninterrupted time gave me the opportunity to explore textiles as a medium, and to literally bring nature into my work. I took a deep dive into the world of dye plants, an adventure that required me to think like a chemist to work effectively with them. This deepened my appreciation of my immediate environment and slowed down my creative process to a more contemplative pace. Dyeing cloth with plant materials is time-consuming and deeply challenged my knowledge of materials, but the discovery of what is hidden in nature is deeply rewarding and diversifying my materials has enriched my practice and expressive voice.

My current body of work came to me while on a skiff two years ago, on a brilliant summer day. As I watched my sister’s ashes sift through layers of water in the Salish Sea, I was mesmerized by the light dancing on and through the water and felt the imperative of expressing this in the studio. Water has been a significant theme in my work, and it again became a voice through which I could work through this experience. This launched a completely new direction in my work and a way to process loss and grief. Using Shibori resist dyeing and natural indigo, I layered transparent silk to create a sense of depth and reflected light on water, as a symbol for the many interwoven layers of life we experience, and the ever-changing nature of all things.