BIOGRAPHY

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Looking back, it all seems so inevitable. I was born in the middle of the 20th century, in the middle of the country, in a middle-class family. My mother was an artistic, hardworking woman with a strong sense of humor and an ability to organize anything and anyone. My father was charming and eclectic in his interests, from restoring antique cars to performing magic professionally. She was a secretary and he was a salesman.

School was easy for me. Friends were everywhere to be engaged. We counted 22 children under the age of 14 on our block, where we could play kickball in the street and run across backyards without ever encountering a fence. There was always someone with whom to play, to work, to dream.

At Indiana University, I earned a BA in painting and an MFA in fibers. It was the 60s and early 70s where participation in the anti-war and second wave feminism movements provided a non-credit education that is still relevant.

After teaching art at a college in Pennsylvania for eight years, I left a tenured position to give my full attention to making art, just as the contemporary craft movement was coming into its own. Maine was my destination and has been my home ever since. Choosing to work both two- and three-dimensionally from the beginning has allowed me to explore numerous materials and techniques and to push my ideas in many directions. Materials and techniques continue to fascinate me and the ideas keep on coming. It really has been inevitable.

I am proud to say that my work is in the Renwick Gallery of the Smithsonian Institution, the Museum of Arts and Design (New York), Museum of Fine Arts (Boston), Racine Art Museum (Wisconsin), as well as other museum and private collections. Teaching, curating, and writing about contemporary basketry, design and creativity have been an important part of my career and continue to give me great pleasure.


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Anonymous materials which, in themselves, carry little value or identity are my favorites--raffia, paper, charcoal, clay, thread, natural and found objects.  It is the transformation of these materials through processes that are as close to the hand as possible—coiling, drawing, hand-building, sewing, mark-making—that fuels me. The idea of the work is the reason I do it. Materials transformed through techniques become the expression of ideas, a type of conjuring.

In looking back at my practice over many years, I recognize some themes.  Nature.  Looking closely.  Calm and order.  Domestic life.  Drawing.

I adore Agnes Martin and Hans Coper but I couldn’t do what they do.  I can’t leave anything alone.  If I were to draw a line, it would be erased and scrubbed and redrawn and then covered with vines or words or more lines giving it support.  I admire John Cage’s intellectual music but am transported and filled with life by Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony or almost any of the choral music of John Rutter, with all that thick harmony.

I am practical but am moved to tears by acts of kindness and the first light of dawn on the horizon.  If being human is a story, it is one I try to read and write every day.