My practice is informed by the rural backcountry of Idaho. I spent my youth in the small towns of central Idaho and now reside in a country home in Southern Idaho. Generations of my family have come from economically modest backgrounds. I am the descendant of a long line of working-class citizens who strive to be self-sufficient and reliant on their inherent skills. Craft was a necessity for my family. With minimal income, the need for skill and craft was important to attain small comforts and indulgences. Craft and the ability to be self-reliant have become a generational heirloom that unites my family tree.
Embedded within the lessons of making, I found moments of mutual connection and joy—connection through process and joy of material. Both are emphasized in my work. Through the process of art making, Craft has been transformed into humble offering. My work conveys a message of care for both my elders and my chosen material. I have learned that there is pride to be found in making an object by hand, that through time and attention to detail we are transferring our devotion into something to be shared. I honor these rural and communal skills every day in my studio practice.
To honor Craft and my rural roots, I meditate often on cherished memories of instruction and learning. Remembering times my family shared completing tasks that enhanced our living conditions and improved kinship through group labor and familial collaboration. The slow and deliberate process of Craft is a way for me to demonstrate care while also finding connection. Connection to the materials used as well as connection to those whose bodies and skillful hands have passed from this world. Those who I can only access through mediation and memory. My father is one of these people. He was my first woodworking teacher and his dedication to Craft still illuminates my practice even after his passing. He taught me to see the possibility and beauty in humble and overlooked things. His words have moved me years later to create work that is centered around these lessons. Now our conversations take on a different cadence, and now we communicate through Craft, material, and ingenuity.
The series Tender Alchemy centers itself around this continued connection to my late father. It is a discovery of the transformative powers of deep connection, memory, and death. I was a child when my father left his body, and after his passing I could no longer remain the same child I was before. I was altered, transformed through grief into something else. These works are an attempt to reconnect with my inner child, the girl I was before death changed me. The bold and vivid child I hid away in a misguided attempt for protection. The colors used in this series are the hues I visualize this tender-aged child anchored in. The colors are also connected to my father. After concluding that this series of works were going to contain hues of Pink, blue-greens and black, I stumbled upon a photograph of my father that was taken a few months before his death. The colors of his clothing matched the colors I had previously chosen for this body of work. These colors are representative of the depth and transcendence of our connection.
Alchemy is present in the conversion of base materials, such as powered gypsum, bulk fabric and lumber, to solid works that are held in supportive frameworks. These modest materials are transformed through craft, skill and devotion to become bold offerings. Offerings to honor the child I was before the transmuting energy of death and grief touched me. These works also embody tender moments that represent the soft and gentle parts of our psyche. The parts of us that can be left raw and ginger to the touch after being wounded. Tender Alchemy is about the healing and honoring of the parts of ourselves that sometimes get hidden away
