Studio Letter | Baskets, Monoprints, and the Next Chapter of the Goddesses

This past month has been a study in movement between community and solitude — teaching in shared spaces while quietly building new work in the studio. The rhythm of gathering and returning continues to shape both the work and the direction it’s heading.

Makers Moments

I had the pleasure of teaching pine needle basketry at the Wende Museum in Culver City and image transfer monoprints at the Santa Paula Art Museum inside the Cole Creativity Center.

At the Wende, the room filled quickly with the scent of pine and the steady rhythm of stitching. Returning students expanded their technical vocabulary — refining tension, learning new stitches, and experimenting with sculptural form. Others began their very first coil, discovering how meditative and architectural the process can be. Beautiful baskets emerged across the tables, each structurally similar yet entirely individual. Several participants left already talking about gathering their own needles. New fires started.

At Santa Paula Art Museum, the energy shifted into color and experimentation. For many, it was their first time using gel plates for image transfer. Collage artists explored layering in a new way, watching laser-printed images fracture and transform through acrylic pulls. There’s a moment in monoprinting when unpredictability becomes collaboration — that moment happened again and again. The prints were bold, textured, and full of surprise.

Watching students move from hesitation to invention never gets old. Materials teach, and so does community.

In the Studio

In my own studio, I’ve been building both structure and momentum.

After taking a bookbinding class with Yaz @Yaseminzografos, I began making hand-bound watercolor sketchbooks — folding signatures, burnishing spines, constructing “perfect” bindings from chipboard and decorative papers. There’s something deeply satisfying about building the container before filling it.

I spun lace-weight yarn from support spindles, returning to the quiet rhythm of drafting and twist. The fiber work feels closely aligned with the wire-woven figures I’ve begun for the Forgotten Goddess series — small structural forms that sit somewhere between reliquary and drawing in space.

I also participated in a work-in-progress session with Judy at Santa Susana Fiber Arts Studio, now working from her new northern digs. Sharing developing pieces in that setting — hearing thoughtful feedback and seeing other artists’ material experiments — shifted the work in subtle but meaningful ways. Even solitary practices benefit from communal eyes.

Photography has been another quiet focus. I’ve been learning a new camera to improve documentation quality and strengthening my web administration skills — building better digital scaffolding for the work itself.

And in meaningful news, the Forgotten Goddesses series has been accepted for a solo exhibition. More details to come as the show develops, but it feels like a significant next chapter for the series.