welcome. . .

I am a Colorado native with a passion to seek the hidden beauty and the extraordinary change makers of the world. Through my work I wish to drive movements, tell stories, and shift perspectives. Art is perhaps one of our greatest unifiers and teachers. Art heals.

Working in metal, sterling silver and 18k and 24k gold, is nothing short of magic. It is a thrill to cut it, solder it, draw on it, and form it into jewelry that will be worn and treasured.

Tearing canvas and linen, painting it and sewing it back together with hand dyed silk thread is at once destructive and healing. The pull and sound of tearing the fabric releases anxiety and anger. It is uncanny how it gives me a sense of strength. Then painting asks me to tell the story. The colors demand attention. The subject matter captivates my memories. Dying the thread evokes a wholesomeness. And finally sewing it together allows me to breath.

(All my work is made with recycled metals, conflict free gemstones and the highest environmental standards.)  

Now the longer version. . .

When I take a minute to think about what formed the lens through which I perceive the world and the longings I have, I am transported back to when I was very young, less than six years of age.  I am alone on a sandy river bank, the air is dry and yet the odor of rotten cotton wood bark and leaves, a very rich somewhat acrid, but moist and distinct smell hangs in the underneath.  The tall grandpa cottonwoods shelter this place along the Tres Piedras River in Southern Colorado.  A rope with a large knot tied in the base hangs from a branch too far up for me to see. 

I spend what feels like blissful eternity swinging across the river, leaping off, letting the rope swing away the then upon its return, race to grab it and leap off on the other side.  This entertainment of what I felt was great daring and great activity in the slices of deep sunlight and light shadows was pure joy.  

It was a hidden alcove.  Everyone knew where the swing was, yet it could not been seen from a distance.  It could only be seen if you walked down the path off the main road toward the river through the walls of willows. It was the perfect place to escape for a day alone.  After the rope tired, I remember walking along the main road to the meadow where a palomino and her foal grazed.  She would come to the fence when I arrived and stick her great nose in my face, and breath out with wiggly lips.  My forehead against hers.  Her nose cupped in my tiny hands.  Inevitably she would move so her back was accessible from the top rail of the fence.  I would climb on her back and lay there sun warming my back and her great horse smell warming me.  She would graze and eventually I would become bored of the inactivity and slide off her back into the scratchy grasses.  

I have two older sisters who would play with me, but to them I was always a nuisance.  The youngest in their minds incapable of doing things.  The world of willows, lizards, and rocks and rushing water was infinitely more entertaining than the world of people.  

Alone on the mountainside physically active with my eyes towards the horizon, or alone in my studio with doors open, following my hands in their next creation, is where I relax and the solitude of the rope swing comes flooding back.  

My current work, really all my work, is an homage to Mother Earth’s creatures and landscapes.  Recently this work has become more fraught with torn landscapes and wildlife hanging suspense in reaction to the political chaos, climate change, systemic racism, gender inequality, the list is forever. . . My salve is my work and reading about people who are positively trudging forward fighting for a more just, collaborative, and thoughtful world.