😊 🌎 🫶
Artist Statement
These works were born from obsession and inexperience.
When I first began tufting, I was convinced I would make dozens of small bags that would somehow fly off a table at a Red Rocks show. Instead, I bought the wrong gun, the wrong canvas, and built unstable frames that ripped fabric — and my fingers — apart. I learned through friction. Through shredding. Through trial.
Working in a tiny apartment with no studio space, I dried the pieces along walls and layered them in the bathtub. The process overtook the home. Production became compulsion. By the time I stopped, I had made roughly seventy-five small tufted forms.
I never made it to Red Rocks. Fear rerouted me elsewhere. I sold a few pieces. Gave more away. But I learned how to tuft — and I had enough work to fill tables at future art shows.
Over time, these pieces have existed without fixed function. They’ve become phone rests, key mats, coasters, wall works, placeholders, pet pillows, spot markers. Sometimes they serve no purpose at all.
They resist hierarchy between art object and utility. They ask nothing. They can be nothing. Or everything.
Whatever you want.
😊 🌎 🫶
Artist Statement
These works were born from obsession and inexperience.
When I first began tufting, I was convinced I would make dozens of small bags that would somehow fly off a table at a Red Rocks show. Instead, I bought the wrong gun, the wrong canvas, and built unstable frames that ripped fabric — and my fingers — apart. I learned through friction. Through shredding. Through trial.
Working in a tiny apartment with no studio space, I dried the pieces along walls and layered them in the bathtub. The process overtook the home. Production became compulsion. By the time I stopped, I had made roughly seventy-five small tufted forms.
I never made it to Red Rocks. Fear rerouted me elsewhere. I sold a few pieces. Gave more away. But I learned how to tuft — and I had enough work to fill tables at future art shows.
Over time, these pieces have existed without fixed function. They’ve become phone rests, key mats, coasters, wall works, placeholders, pet pillows, spot markers. Sometimes they serve no purpose at all.
They resist hierarchy between art object and utility. They ask nothing. They can be nothing. Or everything.
Whatever you want.
