Artwork
I consider myself a material-based artist, drawn to found objects, remnants, and discarded fragments. My studio holds jars of string, scraps of fiber and cloth, and salvaged materials gathered while cleaning the river. I work with that which crosses my path or fits into my pocket. What might these materials be telling us about our shared human story, in relationship with the living earth?
My work as an artist is deeply integrated with my practice as a holistic coach. Both are grounded in somatic presence, deep listening, and the cultivation of meaningful transformation. Whether working with texture and form or holding space through conversation and attention, I approach each with the intention to create a safe space for reflection, integration, and connection.
At the heart of my practice is the belief of creative work to interrupt us, asking us to pause and notice, to contemplate, to feel. Creating objects is a somatic practice, an embodied way of listening through which work emerges. When art adorns our lives, it restores our connection to what is both small and profound, inviting intimacy and engagement with the quiet intelligence of our everyday lives.
A central theme in my work is the idea of reclaiming time, a phrase I use with purpose. In the noise and speed of modern life, carving out space to create feels both vital and rebellious. It’s an act of resistance: to claim and calm our energy, to slow down, to tune in and listen. The work doesn’t arrive on demand, it emerges when the conditions are fertile. My process is as much about cultivating those conditions as it is about the act of making.
In a world of accelerating pace and stark contrast, I see my work as a way to stay present with uncertainty, to explore the tension and tenderness of our time. What does it mean to create something that gestures toward the elements, to shape something that conjures the river, a bowl that holds the rain? To make visible the erasure of our nonhuman kin. How can art help us metabolize our grief? I don’t need a singular answer, rather my studio is a space to lean into the questions, rooted in a deeper relationship with the land, interweaving the materials and the unseen intelligence that animates us all. The process itself is the inquiry and the offering. To remain soft, open, and curious, that is the real work.
