I am a quilter. By using discarded, throw-away textiles left in bags for me at my studio door by fellow townspeople, I make quilts to experiment with the push and pull between craft’s functionality and design while addressing truths of poverty, disparity of luck, the relationship between force and power, notions of false nostalgia, the physical evidence of hard work, and the miracle that is sight and touch. I rely on the no-holds barred nature of contemporary painting rules to free my compositions from the constraints of pattern. In turn, I simultaneously rely on the strict discipline of traditional craftwork to act as a self-editing tool. Although not a purist by any means, I work almost entirely by hand, using not much more than a needle and scissors.
Quilters were the original minimalists, the original pioneers of bold abstraction, the anonymous innovators of method and math. However, they were unrecognized. I learned my craft from my mother, through the collective mind power of generation after generation of unrecognized math and method textile geniuses; countless unnamed women, tireless and determined engineers. In my work I try to teeter on the edge between what is recognized as art and what is dismissed as craft and move the tipping point. I aim to blur the lines between the two until there is no line at all. My daily goal is to make a work that is no more painting than it is quilt and no more quilt than it is painting; I want both at once, born from the same place at once, at the same time. And to wonder out loud, through design, why there is a tipping point in the first place. This work is my attempt to rectify that wrong.