My impermanent installations self-consciously echo the anxiety of constant doing that defines contemporary life, while simultaneously providing an antidote to this pervasive busyness. They are improvised arrangements of thousands of distinct parts—byproducts of non-goal-oriented, repetitive gestures—which will be reconfigured in future installations.

My raw materials are the collected detritus of my life as artist, consumer, teacher, waitress. But repetition is the true medium of my practice. It is embodied equally in the cycles of nature, the pleasures and perils of consumption, work-related tasks, the accumulation of both waste and valuables, meditation and the internal systems of the body. Repetition has the capacity to be alternatively monotonous, frenzied, soothing and transformative. This capacity permeates my practice, embodying acceptance of and engagement with what is, rather than a striving towards what should/could be.

My installations mimic landforms: mountains, meandering rivers, slowly eroding and accumulating piles of rubble, pooled water, climbing and hanging vines. I approach these forms as metaphors for change and impermanence in relation to human desire, loss and culture. My unnatural landscapes always include embedded sites where it appears unrecognizable, sacred rituals have been performed and continue to be performed. I'm interested in the human devotional impulse as a necessary (perhaps instinctual) response to impermanence, loss and awareness of death.

My haptic meditation and the viewer’s visual contemplation of the result are intimately connected. Both are sensory experiences of repetition that can transform anxiety about impermanence, uncertainty and imperfection into curiosity about the mystery of what’s actually here in the present moment.

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