The thin horizontal edge of foam atop a wave spills over into a much wider churn and spreads toward the shore until it becomes a thin line again, this time softly bubbly as it smoothes the sand below. It quickly disappears as it recedes back into the sea and another follows behind it, similar, but never exactly the same.

A fresh cold snow covers each and every branch of a leafless tree. The contrasting white layer accentuates the curves and lines I normally look past. The snow, transforming the tree, reminds me of the inherent beauty of the curvilinear branch.

After a long rain, puddles appear in an otherwise dusty desert landscape. Turning to mud and drying under the sun’s heat, the earth curls and cracks revealing long crevices. The land, altered in it’s freshly dried skin, temporarily becomes something new.

I love the lines created by nature. They describe the incredible beauty and intricacy of my surroundings. They accentuate the miracle of nature and how lucky I am to enjoy it. They remind me that life is constantly changing as things grow, die and recycle. They inspire me to create.

Instability has been inherent in my life. Unpredictable change scares me and makes me feel vulnerable. I turn these feelings into positives by making. Working in the studio, my fears dissolve and my intuition guides. My perception shifts during the process and my work becomes my voice, communicating in a far more elegant manner than I could ever speak. Using the malleable properties of wood, felt, bark, and paper pulp combined with formal qualities of line, form, texture and color, my work speaks to the tenuous qualities of life.