I make work about the performance of composure.
Not theatrical performance, but the lifelong performance of appearing fine.
My work begins there. I think about women who have learned to carry more than they were ever meant to, and how that weight becomes posture, ritual, and inheritance. I’m interested in the strange space where presentation and exhaustion become indistinguishable, where beauty can function as both protection and disguise.
I don’t make work to explain these contradictions.
I make it because they continue to physically shape the lives around me, and because they remain unresolved in my own.
I build my paintings as much as I paint them. Cardboard, reclaimed wood, plaster, paste, water, poured acrylic, and found materials are layered, broken apart, and rebuilt until the surface begins to resist certainty. I follow the conversation between structure and fluidity, accident and intention, allowing the work to reveal itself rather than forcing it toward a predetermined image. Every layer leaves a trace of what came before.
My practice grows out of Southern culture, domestic histories, and a lifelong interest in the invisible labor required to hold families, identities, and expectations together. My figures often hold their shoulders high. This is a familiar posture for generations of women in my family.
In this work, inheritance is not only what is passed down through stories but also what can become embodied. Each piece serves as an offering of a place where viewers might recognize something they have carried themselves.
What I'm fascinated about most isn’t whether we survive the weight, because we always do, but how completely it alters the people we become while we are carrying it.
I returned to a serious studio practice after years devoted primarily to family. Beginning my professional art career at this point feels both new and deeply familiar. I am learning how to enter the art world while carrying decades of observation, memory, relationships, and experience into the studio.
I don’t separate my work from that life, but rather use it to understand. I begin with things that have been around me for years, such as remembered gestures, spaces, inherited objects, and familiar postures. I allow them to become something else.
I am drawn to what happens when private experience is transformed into a visual language that can belong to other people as well.
I am not interested in catching up. I am interested in moving forward with intention, curiosity, and the freedom to make work that could not have existed at any earlier point in my life.
For available pieces or pricing, please visit the connect page.