I'm always searching for hidden narratives lurking beneath printed words and images — the quiet messaging that has shaped our past and continues to influence our beliefs.
My work begins with vintage print materials which I immediately deconstruct until I no longer see them in their original form. Each piece draws from a single source: one manual, one magazine, one map. These fragments become my first marks, informing the color palette, movement, and ultimate mood of the work. I'm drawn to materials that are humorous, odd, or thought-provoking, but what compels me most is their capacity to activate viewer engagement. A single snippet of text or image triggers recognition, prompting the brain to search for connections elsewhere in the work. As viewers gather these fragments, they construct their own narratives based on personal experience and memory. The result is conversation—about our collective past, our preconceived ideas, our sense of self, and our treatment of one another.
My process is more akin to weaving with elements of collage—constructing a tapestry from that singular source. I look to textiles and fiber arts for mark-making strategies and structural ideas. Hours spent cutting, sanding, painting, and sometimes literally weaving allow me to uncover the small tensions and juxtapositions that make for compelling storytelling. I'm always searching for hidden narratives lurking beneath printed words and images—the quiet messaging that has shaped our past and continues to influence our beliefs. I find inspiration in worn surfaces: faded billboards, peeling paint, decrepit buildings. These aging textures inform my paint combinations and remind me why I'm drawn to this work in the first place—there's something profound in how layers accumulate over time, how meaning shifts as context changes, how overlooked materials can speak when given new voice.