I create work in search of joy, self-discovery, and human connection. Humanity is overwhelming, and I can't help but feel everything too deeply. But it is our shared humanity that allows us to connect through the absurdities of life. One of those absurdities is that I am a conceptual functional furniture maker. I grew up in a home surrounded by furniture made by my grandparents’ company, Old Colony Furniture. The pieces were the most valued objects in our home and had a major role in my imaginary play world. Later, as I became an artist, it made sense that I would express myself through furniture.

 In a difficult period of my life, I lost both my father and stepfather to cancer and got divorced. I made a memorial fountain for my beloved stepfather. He taught me unconditional love and generosity, and… he was a constant prankster! So, I installed a secret remote-controlled pump that could spray people when they gathered around. Up until this point, I had been building a body of easily manufacturable upholstered furniture. But when I was at my lowest, I could see I needed to change my path to bring laughter and joy into this world. 

 The fountain taught me to listen to what my work was telling me about myself. Since then, I have been on a path of self-discovery. Every part of my practice: studio work, teaching, events, and community outreach, stem from the knowledge I learned about myself through furniture making. It is my guidepost, my center. When I am lost, I can read the map of myself in my past work and it helps me make my next step. My favorite thing about my practice is that each answer leads to another question. 

 I sometimes use social commentary to provoke thought, such as “Sit like a Grrrl,” but I primarily seek to elicit more elemental feelings –surprise, power, joy, bewilderment, or bliss. The surprise and fear when you think your chair is breaking followed by the relief and pleasure that it was a trick. Or tapping into the power you feel when “dressing up” in my Static Adornment series. I am a collector of wigs and costumes. I often bring them to commonplace events because I love the way people open up and transform in costume. ‘The Hideous Beautiful New Reality’ and ‘What is Real?’ are both self-referential and self-deprecating. They address the dilemma of the craft artist making furniture in the digital age. Which is more important, the object or the photograph? These pieces are humorous, but also create space for myself and others to be vulnerable and open up about feelings of inadequacy. They provoke meaningful conversations and connections. Living the comedy, not the tragedy.