ARTIST STATEMENT ON
FOUR GRAPHITE DRAWINGS:

  • OTHER

  • NOT MY PROBLEM

  • LANDSCAPE OF FEAR

  • NO WAY OUT

These four works are done almost entirely in pencil—a medium I usually associate with soft, gentle renderings—in stark contrast to the harshness of the subject matter. In choosing pencil, I ask you to look closer, pause, and think.

At first glance, the drawing may appear to be realistic, but the subjects have subtle variations. All the barriers are heftier than reality.

In Landscape of Fear the thickened barbed wire with faint rows in the distance creates a landscape-like sensibility.

In No Way Out, the razor-wire has grown pointy, with twisted edges to underscore its evil purpose.

In the award-winning work, Other, the chain-link fence has been altered to appear significantly thicker, sturdier, and with much smaller openings, in order to enhance the sense of impenetrability. I wanted to contrast the thick stiff metal with the softness of the human skin that touches it. This drawing was awarded the Genius Award by the National Association of Women Artists in 2025.

Paired with Other, the drawing Not My Problem, speaks of white privilege. In it, a simple picket fence sits on a background of a suburban home-buyer’s property map. Stamped across the fence, is the only non-graphite element in the series— small letters in red acrylic paint ask us to step closer and examine our own positions of privilege in society.

ARTIST STATEMENT ON
OIL SKETCH: HER INHERITANCE:

More than eight feet wide, this oil painting hangs on the wall, unframed with paint-splattered raw edges.

Using a palette of warm and cool greys, I worked quickly, wanting a sense of immediacy rather than a carefully detailed overly realistic and resolved painting. This was my way of saying the story may be incomplete.

In my mind, the infant represents my own daughters and all the generations to come. What kind of world will they inherit? We are at an inflection point.

Despite the violence, hatred, and inhumanity we see in today’s world, we have within us, the power change courses and leave a better world for our children.

ARTIST STATEMENT ON
THE WAR DRAWINGS

Although these four drawings focus on Ukraine, they apply to the innocents in all border wars. Using the same model, the drawings refer to losing a place of home, of sanctuary, of safety, and of peace.

And once again, there is the reminder of our own lives of privilege, where we observe this pain through the barrier of a digital screen that we can turn off at will.

ARTIST STATEMENT ON
TWO CHARCOAL DRAWINGS:

  • TRACES

  • STRANGERS IN A NEW LAND, 1905

These two charcoal and chalk drawings were made on wooden boards reclaimed from broken pallets and packing crates. The broken, rough strips were nailed together to create something new, just as broken lives put themselves together to create new lives. The old life is still evident. Not forgotten.

Traces—the image of a shadow cast by a contemporary woman seen through a chain link fence—is a memory of a place, a homeland, a society, and a culture that only exists in memories.

The contemporary narrative of Traces is paired with the historical narrative of Strangers in a Strange Land, 1905, where a woman and child wait in limbo on Ellis Island. They cannot be released from the holding area until they are claimed by a male relative. Then, their uncertain future in this strange new land will begin.

ARTIST STATEMENT ON
TWO TEXTILE WORKS:

  • LONG HOURS, HARD WORK, 1920

  • OUT OF REACH

Both of these works began as drawings of people I know. The drawings were digitally reworked before printing onto a linen blend fabric.

In Long Hours, Hard Work, 1920, the textile material and the stitching are a direct reference to “women’s work” and specifically to the immigrant women who toiled in New York City’s garment industry during that time in history. The woman’s face was first embroidered with a subtle range of grey-blues, greens, and violets. And then, the artwork sat, unfinished for a very long time, as I folded and refolded the fabric, cropping it different ways, adding and subtracting other collage elements. I hung it on the wall, making changes over and over, waiting for it to “speak” to me, to say what I had in my heart. It wasn’t until I inserted the irregular rows of sharp steel pins that the work came alive for me. The rest of the work—the immigration ephemera, the bits of thread and needles, all fell into place.

Out of Reach began using the same methods as Long Hours, Hard Work, 1920, although in this work the embroidery on the figures mainly highlights the edges.

The images are obscured, hard to see. Looking closely, the viewer can see images of my own family’s life—something that probably seems fairly ordinary. We take these things for granted. In the center, a couple is married. They live in a romantic home. They are surrounded by children/grandchildren who are free to choose the directions their lives will take.

Heavily embroidered in black is the classic opening phrase for a fairy tale “Once Upon a Time.” The entire embroidery is obscured by a thick metal barrier, making the stitching and soft textile background impossible to touch, and even hard to see. Hovering overhead is a gold and glass box. It is locked and wrapped with chains. Barely visible inside the box are two unattainable house keys.