Hand stitching isn't fast work.
It’s a quiet skill that feels tenuous, slipping fast away, like childhood or domesticity or safety beneath the weight of something handmade. I sew because I don’t know what it is to not sew, because I come from sewing women -- seamstresses, factory workers, embroiderers, mothers -- my work explores this tradition, couching it in the uncomfortable, the unsafe, the frustrating. The sometimes terrible.
I’m inspired by textiles with the heft and history of the domestic -- burdensome to store, impossible to use -- and by the drudgery of working by hand, despite the connotation of “minor art” or “women’s work.” It is perhaps this exact connotation and expectation of what a “quilt” is -- protective, warm, soothing -- so much like what defines the domestic role, that begs it to be pushed against. Hard. I love that during the hours of repetition the meaning of a piece shifts and deepens, but never loses its initial impulse.
Generations of sewing women have said, “Mend it, save it for your children...the fabric is still good.” In my reverence I do the unthinkable: I cut their work apart.
Then I slowly piece myself into it.
2004 — MFA, Creative Writing and Literary Arts, University of Alaska Anchorage.
1994 — BA in Fine Art, University of Nevada, Reno. Summa Cum Laude.
1994 — BS in Textile and Apparel Merchandising, University of Nevada, Reno. Summa Cum Laude.
1994 — Business Administration minor, University of Nevada, Reno.
Photography, Brian Adams