Studio
Studio is my space for hands-on experimentation with old materials.
Each carries its own history and weight, in space, tangled up with light and sound.
Fiber
I start many of my sculptures with brightly colored wool felt. I intuitively cut and sew each shape, create forms that feel anatomical and emotional. Wool is forgiving and tactile, allowing me to shape and reshape as I go. The repetition of sewing is meditative and physical.​Once the soft forms are complete, I sometimes saturate them with a mixture of beeswax and damar resin, which gives the structure a skin-like surface and armature. This process settles the textile in space and preserves the marks of its making. ​
Glass
I was introduced to hot glass as a negotiation between temperature, gravity, and time. In the glass studio, everything happens quickly and requires absolute presence.
Using molds of my textile sculptures, I cast glass forms in the kiln. Each casting is a gamble. Glass is unpredictable: it can crack, collapse, or distort—but risk is part of its appeal. Its clarity and translucency allow light to move through it, reacting to internal textures and imperfections. Like the body, it can appear solid while holding liquid fragility inside.
Foundry
My metalwork often begins with the same wool forms. Some are turned into patterns for casting, while others are used directly in a modified version of the lost-wax technique—what I call a “lost-fiber” process. Instead of wax, I use wool, which burns away when the mold is fired, leaving a cavity that is then filled with molten metal.​Bronze casting is physically demanding and technically complex. I handle as much of the process as possible myself—creating the molds, preparing the forms, and finishing the casts. Subverting the monumental bronze tradition, I use it to evoke emotional traces, bodily sensations, and moments of awareness.
