We live in a society that systemically undervalues caretaking and allows minimal time for care and grief. I work with pulped fabrics to forefront invisible layers of support, and I look to the night sky in search of more generous increments of time. Losing my father in 2007 drove me towards texture and innovative ways of working sculpturally with pulp, while having a child in 2019 deepened my connection to fabrics from domestic spaces and reawakened me to color. The two experiences were not opposite ends of a spectrum, but rather neighboring experiences in rawness and care. In both moments, the smallest gestures accumulate into microcosms that are universes unto themselves.

I make work at the intersection of papermaking, textiles, sculpture, and painting. I transform bedsheets and t-shirts – fabrics that lie close to bodies day and night – into large and small wallworks and suspended sculptures with vibrating colors, expanding orbits, abstracted forms, decisive edges, loose spills, torn fabrics, dirt and brick flecks, and most recently, layers of watercolor. I gather, tear and pulp different color cotton bedsheets and t-shirts that hold personal histories. My process connects me to the Jewish mourning tradition of rending garments at the graveside, and the invisible labor of women who gathered, sorted, and tore fabrics to make rag paper centuries ago. Combining pulped discarded fabrics from various sources reflects our interdependence and that transformation is possible fiber by fiber, bond by bond.

In 2022, I began layering washes of watercolors on hand-formed paper made from repurposed, pulped fabrics of different colors. The paper forms become active and unruly foundations that are bodily, topographical, and cosmological. The fibers that constitute the support system become the lightest lights and the darkest darks; transparent watercolors bring forward the idiosyncrasies and imperfections of each form. Pigments settle in response to irregular, undulating surfaces. Each layer is held by the paper, and each layer offers me a closer look at the stories held by the fibers.

My labor-intensive forms serve as portals into elemental, shared human experiences such as birth, love, rest, caretaking, illness, and grief. I honor cycles of vulnerability and care by connecting intimate and personal moments to vast patterns and systems. My work embodies the entanglement of fragility and strength and the forces that shape and support us.

Waning & Waxing