This specific group of collages, though primarily made in 2021, springs from the year 2020.


2020 was the year Covid hit the entire planet. It was also the year my mother became ill with cancer (beginning of the year) and died (end of the year). It wasn't easy to travel, but I flew overseas for her three times in 2020. A handful of weeks: Not really enough, but I was grateful for this time. The final loss occurred on November 8, one day after a wannabe dictator lost the U.S. election. I communicated that much-needed piece of good news before she left us, the living, behind.


Jump ahead to January 2021 in my studio. The previous year started to fly up to me, disjointed little pieces swooping in on wings. They were impressions collected left and right, here and there; physical particles previously noticed, then torn or cut or grabbed from wherever they happened to be. A rest period had typically followed while these fledglings were stored away. Now, with me sitting there, the little beasts got a chance to do a dramatic performance for me - me, their audience of one. Trying to sway me to pull them from the piles of pieces groveling and calling out for attention, they put on a show. The successful ones made me desire them. These, I singled out, and in a back-and-forth dance, I joined them with other rebels, other stars of the show: The chosen ones.


The resulting assemblages are meditations on the world around me, funneled through my hands' searches for meaning while touching bits of paper or plastic. Touching things has always made me feel more connected to the world. The collages often end up giving me a thought I didn't know I was looking for; an answer to a question I didn't realize I was asking. Socio-political and environmental concerns emerge front and center. This era sees humans battling for survival as a species, and those are the urgent matters that tie the past, the present, and the future together.