Bread for the Journey / Adrift Series (2023)
Abaca pulp, found rusty metal object, rice and beans (mold), ink, horsehair, fragments of text from vintage books in multiple languages, and waxed linen thread.
29"H x 36"W x 5”D 

A textural interpretation of the current global diaspora, lines of the displaced stretching across the globe, with the patterns and colors of rust creating a metaphor for the changes and loss woven through the refugees' plight. What will we offer the millions of people fleeing their homes to help them to survive routes over dangerous terrain, the remote mountain passages, perilous sea journeys or desert crossings? The haptic act of stitching or shaping is transmuted into a visual poetry and a collective narrative unfolds. It speaks to our own personal histories and cultural roots, which reminds us that we are all connected fragments of humanity.

Flight of the Farsaken / Adrift series (2023)
Wool felt, waxed linen thread, branches, porcupine quills.
19in H x 30in W x 17in D

Tree branches stand in for roots and the interconnectedness of all life, while cubes, one of the five Platonic solids, represent earth or tiny houses. This natural sculpture reflects the mass dispersion of entire populations from their indigenous territories, separating them from their homelands. Displaced across vast regions, far from their geographic homelands, everywhere they turn they feel forsaken, as borders, like doors to safety, remain closed to them.

Disappearing Ridgeline (2017)
Paper, plants, ink, eco-dyed thread, waxed linen thread, wood skewers, window screens, rusty bits, and original poetry.
12"H x 28"W x 1½“D

A ridgeline of displaced transplants walking tall eucalypts’ light filtering once dense foliage now thinning for miles of great horned owls nesting for centuries disoriented feathers drift down limbless trees spinning blue silence where thousands of birds called one plaintive whistle tales of deep green scent moss-colored secrets and autumn leaves rotting on the forest floor drag marks of logs gouge into hillsides into dirt roads into wood for houses for fires five hundred million trees gone.

walnut hulls

the dark flesh

of their bruises