I began creating woolen sculptures in 2009 after a tumultuous period in my life. Out in the peaceful woods of Sonoma, I began gathering large, gnarled branches that had dropped onto the forest floor. A week of total quiet and a huge skein of yarn led to the creation of my first wool wrapped branches. Eventually, my thoughts turned to exploring other elements, and I became drawn to the idea of softening traditionally male-oriented objects with beautiful, colorful yarn.
The yarn, historically used in women’s work, tempers items which have prototypically masculine or violent connotations. For me, the material and the wrapping motion become both the act of accessing memory and the creation of hope. As I wind and unwind, spool and unspool, I am reliving moments in life and thinking of possibility, of the future. Working with fiber lets my hands bear burdens for me, allows me to fumble around in search of new insight, and guides me in searching for answers I might otherwise never find.
Gentling these pieces with plush, richly colored wool while pushing them into new sculptural forms allows me to establish an extremely different, almost familial, relationship with them. The repetitive, meditative, and transformative nature of fiber art is one of the most healing and hopeful acts of renewal I know.