When I was a young child in the early ’80s, I received a Crayola Caddie—a three-tiered art supplies organizer. There were probably too many hours spent arranging the crayons and markers in rainbow order, but the thrill of all those shades, hues, and possibilities was something only a budding artist could fully appreciate. Fortunately, there was no lack of creativity in my extended family and all forms of artistic expression were encouraged and supported. My two brothers and I grew up in an old farmhouse at the end of a dirt road in rural Maine where the weather and raw landscape were perfect for observing and exploring. When I got older, I majored in art at Bates College and spent a semester at the Tyler School of Art in Rome. Later, after the birth of my first daughter, I left a graphic design job to become a full-time mom but made art a priority ten years later. I now have messy-but-active (the organized Crayola Caddie days are over) art studio in the back room of our house in Massachusetts. My understanding husband, two brilliant teen girls, nervous Bernese Mountain dog, and two wild-but-sweet kittens do their best to “leave Mom alone in her studio or else she will be grumpy.”
My current love affair with paper stems from the non-preciousness of it that seems to foster experimentation, mistakes, and mapping out of ideas. I often play with the idea of mixing organic shapes and textures with architectural or mechanical elements. Sometimes I think, “How would God design a mailbox or a powerline? What would a cathedral look like if it grew out of the ground?” Yes, there is a spiritual element to my work. I try to honor, copy, and hold on to truth and beauty that comes from a brilliantly imaginative and loving creator. Other influences: Star Wars, phrases Krista Tippet says on her podcast, “On Being,” insect wings, weather, kites, poetry, my dad’s engineering sketches, and instruction manuals.