I’ve lived most of my life in rural areas. For more than three decades, I’ve been planted in a quiet corner of New England. This beautiful place has instilled in me a deep curiosity, caring, respect and concern for the environment I share with the myriad lifeforms who inhabit this land. I’m constantly amazed by the rich diversity of the ecosystems here, teeming and resilient, yet also clearly struggling under the weight of human domination and the multi-tiered stresses of climate change. The web of life is heatbreakinglly fragile and ephemeral. As I watch the seasons cycle, never quite repeating, I'm reminded to pay close attention, to take nothing for granted and to fully appreciate the magic as it arises and unravels each day.
Everything I make begins with a visual experience. I go for daily walks, look closely, take photographs, make notes then try to translate what I observe into art. I return to the same spots throughout the seasons, year after year, noticing all the tiny landmarks I know and love—vernal pools, tree roots, mossy rocks, puddles, hummocks, shadows, reflections, nests, beaver constructions. I experience their growth, aging, decay and disappearance over time. I'm forever trying to press something of this transient essence onto paper.
I think of my work as a lifetime of small offerings—a humble gathering of the wonder, gratitude, grief and love I feel for life's fleeting beauty—echoed back to the world.