I use printmaking to create patterns derived from nature that I then piece together to create larger, wall-sized works. A sense of rhythmic iterance comes from the repetition of each printed plate, the end of one block running into the beginning of the next. The works become a hedge to walk along, a forest to look up into, a field to get lost in.
I think of my sculptures, created from copper wire that is sometimes corroded by ferric chloric, as unprinted etchings—three-dimensional manifestations of the orbs and nests that are recurring themes in my works on paper, lines moving through space. The act of creating them—the automatic manner of knotting the wire in the same way, over and over, is meditative, recalling the use of prayer beads.
In all of my work, I am consciously borrowing from traditional craft—handicrafts, basket making, fabric weaving—often done by women at home. There is no separation between craft and home and life and art.