I am struck by intimate, ephemeral encounters. Objects that record gestures draw me in: a piece of foil that borrows the texture of asphalt after it’s been crushed by a car, or a branch that has split in two and reveals its core. I engage with material during or after moments of transformation- where the remnant of touch remains.
I approach materials as a weaver. In weaving, we confront one simple choice- over or under- in repetition, to yield infinite possibilities. Woven cloth is a record of encounters, of joining, of time spent. Weaving is also a way of seeing, of touching, of being open to possibility.
I see the weaver as one who brings materials together, records time, and embeds meaning through touch. The weaver builds a nest of materials, which take on a new configuration, without transforming the properties or state of any individual part. Each remains recognizable and independent, even within an interconnected web. All actions taken in weaving are reversible. A weaving is an ephemeral conglomerate whole- materials that have come together and may come apart again.