My work is informed by my research into identity. This covers a wide range of topics: from the hospice movement, to ancient peoples, to queer studies and the body, to the graveyard. Who we were in life determines who we are in death and how we are remembered. It determines whether our identity is lost to time and memory, or venerated. It places us either in meticulous cemeteries and museums, or in overgrown lots and plowed fields.
My fascination with the past and identity intersects with my interest in fabric. Fabric remembers the trace of hands, but much like DNA it will decay with time. It is unlike marble that stands immortalized on a public square, in public memory. Instead, fabric is transient and fragile. It is invited into the private home and lovingly kept close until it is either outgrown or worn through.
Fabric speaks to the workings of daily life and the body. It is a witness to daily cycles of routine and repetition. It’s the clothes we wear. A dress that hangs in the back of a closet. It’s the blankets and the shrouds we wrap our bodies in. Fabric has roots in home and memory, the building blocks of identity.
Much like my own identity, I view my work as a puzzle to be solved. I employ repetitive techniques that speak to daily cycles to build many small parts that become a greater whole. In this way, I not only build a piece, but a body.