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At the heart of my creative practice is a persistent fascination with connection: the quiet, often-invisible forces that draw fragments together until something new and unexpected takes shape.
I’m known as The Curious Knitter, and curiosity is my guiding principle. It is how I enter a question, how I stay with ambiguity long enough for it to become meaningful, and how I let form reveal itself through attention and making. My work moves through the lenses of wayfinding, cartography, place, and identity—not as a search for certainty, but as a way of tracking relationship: what gathers, what shifts, what leaves traces, and what becomes possible in the spaces between.
Knitting has always been part of that practice. I come from a family of needleworkers, and over generations my family members have worked in needlepoint, knitting, embroidery, and many other textile arts. That lineage shaped how I understand skill as inheritance and inquiry as something you can hold in your hands. Stitch by stitch, making becomes a kind of research: slow, attentive, and bodily. It makes room for meditation, exploration, and creativity—not separate from thought, but as a way of thinking.
In my studio, knitting is also a form of mapping.
To design and make a garment is to follow a thread through geography, labor, and time: from the ranching of the wool, to its processing and dyeing, to the hands that spin, knit, and finish, and finally to the wearer—their body, their climate, their location, their daily life. Each stage leaves its own coordinates. The garment carries a route, even when that route is invisible. I’m drawn to those routes: the material histories, the human decisions, and the relational terrain that sits inside something as familiar as fabric.
The idea I return to again and again is murmurations, because it names what I am trying to witness through this kind of making:
*Murmurations:
The emergence of collective presence, where individual entities, in the course of migration, gather, shift, dissolve, and reform along a shared trajectory. Here, murmurations are not only the synchronized movement of many, but also the profound connectivity that arises between pieces that begin as separate—each serving as both fragment and whole. They are the silent, swirling convergence of material and immaterial things, whose boundaries blur as they reach across voids to find one another. Identities are shaped not only by proximity and interaction, but by the spaces between—spaces that paradoxically unite rather than divide—as we navigate our individual and collective paths.*
I think about this when I work: how separate elements become a whole, how structure emerges through repetition, how negative space holds as much meaning as the visible mark. Curiosity keeps me attentive to that in-between—where relationships form, where patterns shift, where something new can arise.
Across fiber, paper, installation, digital media, painting, and drawing, I explore the interplay between individuality and collective existence. Each piece stands on its own, yet always gestures toward relationship and resonance—toward the fleeting moment when fragments gather into a powerful unity.
This site gathers my work as an invitation: to pause, to notice subtle choreographies of form and space, and to sense the threads of connection that bind us—especially in those ambiguous places where presence and possibility quietly converge.
A Statement of Studio Values
Sustainability of Practice
I create slowly and intentionally. I value depth over volume, making work that is built to endure, to be lived with, and to grow in significance over time.
Relational Space
I believe the strength of a piece lies not only in its individual components, but in how they gather—how they inform and shift one another through proximity. My work investigates this in both form and subject.
Material Consciousness
I work with materials that carry history and texture—reclaimed or natural fibers, vintage textiles, archival papers, and found surfaces—letting their lives before me remain present in what I make. Every decision carries intention.
Ambiguity as Invitation
I welcome ambiguity as a place of possibility. Sometimes that shows up through subtlety and restraint: quiet shifts, pauses, and negative space that ask you to look longer. Other times it arrives through boldness, density, and insistence. My work moves between these poles, letting each piece decide what it needs—an openness that invites reflection without requiring a single conclusion.
