My best artwork comes from a place inside of me that is full of spontaneity. That place is neither too intellectual nor overly emotional. It is a place where I am fully in the moment, able to see possibility and to respond with joy to what my senses are perceiving. Such is the case with the work pictured here.
 
This is a breakthrough piece, and it has led to a deep wellspring of artistic inspiration. I didn’t plan that this piece would be so important to me. In fact, it was accidental. I had been working for several weeks with unusual materials, including Styrofoam and pantyhose. I wanted to make my work large but light in weight. I had been carving Styrofoam, stuffing pantyhose with pillow stuffing, manipulating papier-mâché, and testing light weight sculptural materials
 
As part of that exploration, I had crafted the forms in the piece above and arranged them on a very large sheet of Styrofoam. I had spent several days re-configuring the elements and trying to find both imagery and composition that were pleasing to me. Thematically, I had been exploring the dark side of power and trying to comprehend the impact of generational violence on women. I had made gruesome Raggedy Ann dolls from pantyhose and grotesque clown figures from colored tights. 
 
As I worked, I had many associations with pantyhose, as most women do. Pantyhose are uncomfortable. They are confining. They make women bulge out in unattractive places. The wearing of pantyhose emerges from a set of cultural expectations that have restricted and defined women for decades. Stuffing pantyhose was enjoyable because it allowed me to be somewhat counter-cultural. I could make figures that were wild and unruly.  Lots of emotions started to bubble to the surface. The stuffed pantyhose readily became body parts. It easily formed facial expressions and inner organs. The material was fragile yet very fluid. My hands enjoyed the texture and flexibility.
 
The precursor to the work pictured above was the sixth or seventh piece that I had created from pantyhose. However, I didn’t like the final state of the precursor piece, and I disassembled it, intending to discard the elements. When I held the soft, stuffed forms, I couldn’t quite bring myself to toss them into the trash, however. They were so interesting and squeezable. Spontaneously, I decided to keep the forms for possible use later, and I started to weave them in and out of the grid on the wall of my studio because I couldn’t figure out where else to store them.
 
Quickly, I realized that I had invented a unique process. I could actually push the stuffed pantyhose through the metal grid and create evocative imagery. When I arrived at what felt like a complete statement, I grabbed a frame and hung it on the grid to surround the stuffed forms.
 
Shortly thereafter, the piece took on a life of its own in my imagination. Humor and possibility began to replace the darkness of the gruesome and grotesque figures I had been creating. It seemed like creative floodgates opened in the right side of my brain as I acquired mastery of the new imagery. I realized that I did not need to be literal; I could be visually figurative. This was a breakthrough piece because it enabled me to develop a visual language that was in my voice. In fact, the breakthrough piece helped me find a voice that I did not know that I had.
 
Ironically, unless the steel grid is sawed off, the piece can never be moved. It is woven permanently in place, a fitting metaphor for an epiphany.

After living for 50 years in New York City, we moved at the end of January, 2020, into a Quaker retirement community in southeastern Pennsylvania. A lifelong association with Quaker schools had prompted us to seek a progressive community that was based on values of engagement, equality, generosity, lifelong learning, wellness, integrity, and environmental stewardship. At Kendal-Crosslands, we have found all that and more, including the rich artistic community that exists throughout the Brandywine Valley. We are so pleased with our new community that we even moved my 96 year old mother from Cape Cod into the assisted living section on our campus.

Our 500 acres serve as endless inspiration. We have streams, open meadows, wooded hills, and many species of wildlife. We regularly see fox, deer, hawks, flickers, bluebirds, turkey vultures, and woodpeckers. We feast daily on a buffet of natural resources. Because my academic background is both biology and the fine arts, my life has two deep roots: science and art. We live in a paradise of possibility for exploring both passions.
 
We had just begun to acquaint ourselves with our new community when Covid-19 impacted the world. Our campus went into lock down, and our horizons became very limited.  My studio quickly became a sanctuary. Soon after the lock down, however, my husband became very ill (He is okay now!), and our life was severely restricted for six months. During that dark time, I could not be in my studio, and there was no room to paint in our new apartment.

I knew I should not stop working on my art, so I returned to a childhood activity that had sustained me when I had been ill as a child. My mother taught me how to use a sewing machine, and it has been a skill that I have used many times since. I set up my sewing machine on our kitchen table, and I started to sew my paintings. I made a series of collages that I stitched together. No glue. No paint. Just thread, paper, and stitches.  From my studio stash, I foraged scraps of paper that I had saved for their beauty. I also cut up my old paintings and journal entries.  All of the fragments were mended into a new whole. I felt a deep connection to the process.

The sound of the sewing machine was soothing, and its repetitive motion was meditative. Many associations arose to other parts of my life. Threads connected me to my childhood and to women through the ages. Stitching is women’s work. Women have always mended. They mend hurt feelings, torn clothing, scraped knees, relationships. Stitches are used to close wounds and to reclaim and reassemble fragments.

I could feel the mending process working inside of me. Through the work, I began to heal. As with all honest art, I was able to express my fears, frustrations, and confusion in the pieces I was creating. I found myself empathizing with women throughout history who have needed to remain steadfast during difficult times. I also reconnected to additional roots in my life - feminism and perseverance.

I continue to grow and learn.

I have always loved to write. I have also always loved to make art. Therefore, I am embarking on a new journey. I’m going to write about my art making. I have no idea where I will end up. I haven’t chosen a destination or even a road on which to travel. It just feels right to get going. In terms of the frequency of my blogging,  I promise that I will post periodically. As I get the feel of the thing, I may post according to a specific schedule. Right now, I have so much artistically on my mind that I'm sure my posts will be frequent.
 
Although 12/26/20 is the formal start of my blog, I took my first baby steps on this project in the fall of 2019. I had just found a beautiful new studio 10 minutes away from where we would be relocating. It seemed appropriate to inaugurate my practice in the new studio with daily art writing. For several months after signing my lease, I did a free-write for 15 minutes every time I entered the studio. It helped me focus, cleared my head, and gave me a record of my thinking. However, I found it frustrating that I had to carry the journal with me in order to have access to it when and wherever I wanted. I abandoned the notebook and began looking for a better vehicle to combine art and writing. Switching to an electronic, online blog platform seemed very appealing. A blog is portable and it allows one to include photos.  Fortunately, my art website could be upgraded to include a blog. My web designer set it up, and this is my first piece of blog writing.

As I write and make art, I hope to engage readers in a dialogue about my art and art in general. I look forward to taking the journey with you.