I’ve been thinking a lot about weather systems, about the beauty of storms. Those looming forms to which we have no control over. Wild energies that disrupt, dismantle, and remind us we are small. But there is beauty in this chaos. They show us fragility. They show us strength. They teach us to retreat, reconstruct, and keep moving forward. With my threads I bind together these wild energies, these organic beings that can’t be held. Breaking down the chaos into the simplest form - a line. A line becomes two, then three and many more, and just for one moment, I’ve caught the storm.
Having a studio space is a privilege that I don’t take for granted. After going awhile without one, it’s incredible the difference it makes to have a space that is purely dedicated to creating, a space that you don’t have to share with living or sleeping.
My work is very much a form of discovery through process -- in other words it can get pretty messy. Through dripping, splattering, pouring and splashing, I explore my surfaces and learn from my media.
I believe it’s this freedom to make a mess that makes all the difference when creating. It's the freedom to explore, spill, and make mistakes that leads to the discoveries. When I need a break from my visuals, I can walk away - let a piece in progress sit, give it time to breathe, and come back with fresh eyes and a fresh mind.
My studio is nowhere near as big as I would like it to be, nothing close to my dream spaces on Pinterest. My 7 ft desk takes up one wall, and it's often so scattered with various projects, that I have paintings populating my smaller work table and a few scattered across the floor as well. The other wall was homemade by my brother and divides a dining area in the house, thus creating my little space. I love having this wall because I can paint on it, write on it, and hammer as many nails as I please while I'm constantly hanging and rearranging pieces.
I have a collection of findings that I like to keep in my studio as sources of inspiration. Old books, pieces of driftwood, an assortment of empty frames (as seen above), scraps of material and more. Okay now I sound like a hoarder, but I promise it's not that excessive. Perhaps my favorite, and something I always like to keep on my desk is a little collection of various shells, coral, rocks, and bits of sea glass that I've gathered from places I've traveled. I like the idea of always having a physical piece of the different landscapes I've walked across and marveled at, and I find the textures and colors to be a constant source of inspiration.
Wherever I wander, I'm always thinking about how I can channel what I see and experience back into my studio and into my work. The good news is, there's plenty to explore out there, even in the ordinary day.
Find me on Instagram to see more of my daily explorations and process.
My work is largely inspired by an utter fascination with bodies of water - probably because I've never lived anywhere that was too far from one. This piece came to me in waves, with every new layer bringing a new sense of understanding, and after awhile, revealing to me the specific place I was pulling from. When I discovered this spot while living in Charleston, I loved it immediately. Somewhere among the gnarled trees, the scattered bits of shell and shark teeth, I found a place to think, to draw, to dream. I spent many early mornings and dusky evenings sitting on the shores watching the water, working away in my sketchbook, and simply soaking in its atmosphere. Folly Beach, often known as the Edge of America, became my reset button - a constant source of inspiration, reflection, and a landscape to explore in the realms of abstraction.
This one's for you Folly Beach, I hope to see you soon.
Sea Gypsy, 22 x 28 in, Thread & Mixed Media
This piece is available for sale, email email@example.com for inquiries.