I make art because if I’m not creating, I feel untethered; the act itself brings me back into balance — it’s how I process the world, a refuge, an escape, and a place to reflect. Whether I’m spinning yarn, weaving, felting, making pine needle baskets, carving a lino block, or painting, I’m always drawn to sculptural processes — adding, removing, layering, and shaping until something finally emerges.

Nature is my constant inspiration: moss on bark, changing sky light, stones in water, the smell of the wild, the feel of fiber. I love ephemeral things, and I love the thought of leaving behind artifacts that someone in the future might discover, the same way we now hold ancient craft and feel the continuity of time.

When people encounter my work, I want them to feel it in their bodies — to want to touch it, smell it, maybe even taste it. I hope it blurs the line between art and craft and reveals the beauty hidden in the fleeting and the everyday. For me, art isn’t about talent. It’s persistence, practice, curiosity, and the small courage to share what you’ve made. That’s what I teach, and what I hold as my daily anchor.