I find comfort in making, physically manifesting contemplation through labor. Though a gesture of generosity and care, the process is also compulsive, carrying the weight of an obligation. I am continuously navigating this dichotomy, negotiating the needs of my work with my own capacity to give; I empathize with the nurse. I feel deeply connected to and profoundly detached from the things I make, like a vital organ tethered outside of my body.
My work weaves together seemingly disparate images, thoughts and observations: scar tissue, the sensation of being under heavy blankets, capillary action, mending, the warmth of a mug, umbilical cords, the weight of our bodies. I want to articulate how material and form have the potential to simultaneously elicit tenderness, familiarity, and alienation. I am aided by the physical properties of clay and fiber. They respond directly to the pull of gravity and might bulge, swell, or sag like flesh. Both can be quite strong or fragile, impervious or porous. It is unclear if my material or conceptual curiosity came first: they operate in tandem.