Statement:

It’s remarkable how a single word can change everything. Until a few months ago, I described myself as a mixed media artist, but the label never quite fit. Did it suggest a dabbler—someone unable to settle? At best, it was a convenient shorthand that spared me from explaining specifics. At worst, it left me feeling like a dilettante. I’ve come to realize that multidisciplinary is a far more accurate description. It grounds me. It speaks to intention, rigor, and sustained commitment to the work.

Being an artist is an evolving process. Reframing how I identify myself has propelled that process forward, bringing me closer to what I recognize as my authentic voice.

Over the past two years, my work has undergone a dramatic shift. Even so, I remain deeply compelled by the idea of the energetic imprint we leave on the objects we touch and the moments we share with others. This inquiry consistently draws me toward themes of impermanence and fragility.

In 2024, these themes took the form of deeply personal imagery: my grandmother’s silk handkerchiefs, the vase left to me by a late friend. Over time, however, the photo-encaustic work began to feel too literal. At the beginning of 2025, I started layering encaustic paint and oil pastel over photographs to evoke what I think of as the ash of memory. These works invite close looking. They engage the viewer’s curiosity, encouraging them to search for meaning—whether the story I’m suggesting or one of their own.

My most recent body of work marks another shift, moving away from storytelling altogether. All art is personal, of course, but I find myself weary of my own narratives. I’m drawn instead to creating work that is less tethered to specific experiences and more attuned to feelings that resist language.

I’m releasing my attachment to the artist I thought I should be. I’m learning to trust my intuition, to welcome happy accidents, and to break the rules.