In early 2006 my mom was diagnosed with cancer. The same day I found out, I quit my job as an architect at a Design-Build firm in the Washington DC area. A few weeks later I moved to Houston to help care for her. I quickly realized that I was not built to sit in waiting rooms and hospitals with nothing to do with my hands. So I looked online for a fox pattern that I could hand sew during all the waiting. I found a picture of a needle felted fox and was so taken by the beauty of the wool and the description of the process that I ordered pounds of wool and a bunch of needles and began sculpting. I made a fox first…then I made creatures. Big and small, angry and stressed, happy and sad. Lonely creatures. A few months after I started sculpting I took a trip back to DC for a few weeks. When I came home and walked into my studio space, I was taken aback by all that I had created and I realized what is obvious now, that I was putting my emotions into my creatures. The wool took over my life and here I am nine years later still sculpting. My needle felted sculptures have been poked tens of thousands of times, compacting the wool into its final form. I find that this meticulous repetitious process informs my work, allowing me to enter an almost hypnotic state where I can tap into my own emotions and of those around me. It is always the case that after hours of poking wool, my work has evolved into shapes and stories I hadn't initially envisioned. These creatures, made from raw wool combined with natural and manmade objects, convey and illicit emotion in frozen moments of change and evolution.
Currently my work captures and encases my own fears and anxieties in sculpted form by exploring different methods of textile art. I combine sculpted wool with macramé and weaving techniques and incorporate unconventional objects such as local found quartz and smoke.