I have been making art as long as I can remember. At the age of four or five, I drew large crayon figures on my bedroom walls (which by the way never came off, much to my mother’s chagrin). I still have a visceral memory of pressing a crayon into that porous flowered wallpaper.
There is a feeling and a sound when I make art …
scratch, scrape, press, drip, touch. Making a mark is intimate work.
Elements are brought together, pulled apart, covered, revealed, and reassigned until collaboration feels complete.
My pieces combine drawing, paint, and collage. There is a scavenger hunt for inspiration through boxes of family history; crumbling pages, handwritten prayers, faces, ledgers, and memories. I like digging in that garden, time traveling, touching surfaces, looking for what catches my eye. Adding their story to my story. Those remnants of past lives lived are my skyline and my roots.
You may find a face revealed in my art. The tilt of a lip or the narrowing of an eye can reveal the inner world. Something hidden. Something exposed. The emerging image is a conversation.
My art studio is in Santa Fe, New Mexico where my 5-year-old self and I work together to make art.