Quilting has been with me since the first time I dug through a pile of my grandmother’s fabric. I return, over and over, because it is coming home. In it, I find space to dream, to play, to find quiet, to be fully myself without compromise. I create sanctuary for my untamed imagination and my finely honed intuition. I connect to the long history of women’s work, find understanding of my working class roots, and engage with the autobiographical nature of quiltmaking.

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My work thrives in the in-between: modern and traditional, flexible and fixed patterning, craft and fine art, the digital world and the natural world, logic and magic, geometric and organic.

Fabric is comforting; its weight and texture is familiar to my hands and body. Hand quilting is soothing; I find the repetitive and labor intensive process to be healing.

Like healing, quilting is slow work. It requires contemplation, the passage of time, and patient, focused dedication. I decipher emotions and time into an improvisational, abstract textile experience that is intended to been seen both domestically and publicly.

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My quilts are made from many pieces of fabric in the way my life is composed of many of pieces: communities, relationships, work, leisure, birth, death, joy, sorrow, contentment, dissatisfaction, order, upheaval. I gather fabrics from conventional and unconventional sources. I stitch together my story from these pieces and find a narrative to make sense of my journey.

Each quilt is a document and the completion of a quilt is the close of a chapter. Like the many quiltmakers that come before me, I put my spirit, my energy, my vitality and my skill into a quilt to tell my story.