Old and Hip

I want to be old like a typewriter.

I want to be iconic and revered by a new generation–even while being slow and generally cumbersome.

One doesn’t have to be useful to be loved.


Two and a Half Dimensions

In a world made up of screens, there’s something deeply satisfying about art with texture.

It reminds us that seeing something in person is worth it. It reminds us that no matter how awesome something can look on Instagram, photos are still no substitute for the real thing. It reminds us that being present is still important.

Painting and Plucking Herself into Existence

Gender is performative, life is performative.

I imagine a hand coming out of a dark abyss and opening a case of paints and brushes.

There are oil paints and acrylics and pen and ink and tweezers and lipstick and eyeshadow and everything else.

The hand picks up a fine brush, dabs it in a color, and begins.

Eventually she is fully formed, the artist of her own careful existence.

Coming Home

I’ve noticed that a certain proportion of my pen and ink drawings have involved simple, comforting images like hands holding a cup of coffee or a person reading by a window.

My only explanation for this is that I used to work with pen and ink frequently, but I put it down for several years to focus on other things. I love pen and ink–I love the simplicity, the high contrast… I find great comfort in drawing in pen and ink again. For me, it’s like coming home.


I’ve been calling this one “Persephone.”

This piece is part of a series I’ve been working on lately.

I find the tactile nature of my fabric art serves as an important protest against the brutal numbness of winter.