Why trees? My art journey.

Creativity played a role in my life from a very young age. My Mom was a maker. She taught me how to cook, bake, decorate cakes, make clothes (with and without a pattern), and she could turn any gathering into a party.  In high school, I received my first camera and began taking pictures of my friends and everyday objects that with light and shadow became abstract. 

I studied art and photography at Ohio University. I had the great fortune to learn from photographer Elise Mitchell Sanford. She came to photography late in life and was a force of good. She taught me that my voice was important but so were the art tools. 

I graduated with a B.F.A. in photography and spent the next three years creating art, teaching high school dark room skills and volunteering at a children’s art gallery. Without a darkroom, I turned to Polaroid Transfers. I began volunteering in a children’s art gallery doing arts education programming. I saw this as a way to be in the art world and make a living.

After receiving my M.A. in Arts Policy and Administration from Ohio State University, I spent the next twenty years curating and promoting other artists work in Longmont, CO. Throughout my years as an Arts Administrator, I knew I would return to my own art one day. And I knew it would be clay.

When I returned to the ceramic studio, I had no plan. I simply wanted to create.  Coming back to clay coincides with my healing journey that began when my Mom died. Working with clay is reminiscent of my time in the kitchen with my Mom – working with my hands, kneading and needing. Clay willingly accepts all my emotions. I found my voice in clay. 

My work began with a large grove of trees, the “Fire Circle”.  After a visit home to be with Dad after my Mom’s death, I had this image in my head which inspired this series. I imagined being in my parent’s backyard with Mom and everyone who loves me. We were in a big circle around her fire pit burning off the bad memories. It felt so good and supportive. The people in my circle became the trees I create. All the trees, my healing tribe in one circle. Encircling me in support and witnessing the fire in the middle. Art has been the light that guides me on my healing journey. The trees document my journey. I am the trees - battered, rejoicing, and supported. I can continue to grow.

From this large grove of trees grew all the individual trees I create. I joke that I am making my own forest, perhaps I am. 

“What I’m learning about grief is that it is still learning about me.
Learning that I am strong and resilient.
If the trees can keep dancing, so can I.”  - Unknown