Growing up as a military brat and later being a single mother, I experienced two very difficult sides of life: a great deal of displacement and a lot of responsibility. On the flip side of that, I also experienced many different cultures, landscapes, and climates. My disjointed childhood was spent playing in what I would later come to realize was a juxtaposition: from the sweaty jungles and fort-like military bunkers on post-war Okinawa, to adapting to the unforgiving Arizona desert, where man-made swimming holes pocked nearly every inch of the city’s concrete skin, affording the lie that survival was somehow due to fitness. I also survived the toe-snatching seventy degrees below zero sub-arctic winds that screamed off the frozen lakes of Madison, Wisconsin, only to be slapped in the face by understanding that they were far warmer than the welcome I would receive from the insular high school cliques, which I could never seem penetrate and was constantly being shown that, under no circumstances, would I ever.
There was a lot to see, which was good. There was a lot I did not want to feel. As a defense mechanism, I frequently turned to the landscape of my inner making. Residing there I could keep everything I owned, and no one ever parted. My code was to be self-sufficient. I modeled my lifestyle after Gilligan’s Island, where survival depended upon one’s own creative problem solving and everything was made by hand, preferably of bamboo.
My sculptures and layered installations are an outgrowth of my urge to control my environment by using what is at hand in order to transport the viewer into a physical and psychological landscape of my imagination; where rooting and nurturing create surreal spaces to be traveled through and experienced, like a ride through Disneyland’s Pirates of the Caribbean, enveloping the viewer central themes of nurturing, adapting, creative reuse, encouragement and self-belief. Too often we are conditioned to give our power and problem solving abilities away to others. It is incredibly satisfying to watch the gears click in a viewer's mind, upon experiencing my work, and see them come out more inspired and empowered, allowing themselves to take more personal risks, while above all, having fun.
My recipe for long term success in any situation is this: start where you are with what you already have on hand and build from there. Accomplish by applying yourself consistently, and figuring it out along the way. Play. Listen to your intuition. Override the negative voices of doubt when facing challenges. Do not wait for the starts to align before you begin, because that day will never come. You really don’t need Amazon to solve all of your problems. Get going, and believe in yourself! It is my life practice, in addition to my art practice, to nurture and encourage self-esteem; after all, happy, confident people make the world a better place!