I am an artist in San Francisco who grew up in rural Western New York in a very creative household. My mother is a quilter and my father is a woodworker, so I developed an appreciation for and a love of color, texture, pattern, and form. I’ve always been drawn to the tactile, and I believe that the sense of touch can be experienced visually, without laying a finger on a finished piece of work. To me, the texture of a piece is every bit as important as its design or color(s). Like colors, various surface appearances fall somewhere on a texture/temperature continuum (corroded aluminum may give a sense of coolness, whereas a heavily-grained, weathered wood would run warmer).

Many of the art supplies I’ve used over the years have been found or cheaply obtained: detritus from railroad tracks, old wood from construction sites or abandoned furniture, up-cycled wool (thrift store suits etc), rusted metal from anywhere, driftwood from the beach, etc. Table leaves and cedar shingles make great canvasses! A rusted spray can looks great with a bit of gold leaf, while small pieces of driftwood make great bases for found-object sculptures. And of course, the patinated pages of old books are great staples for collage.

For years I was working with oils and I would paint bizarre fictitious characters and bleak, surreal landscapes. That is what art was to me: oil painting and nothing else.

In 2003, I was home for Christmas and playing with my nieces and nephews in my mother’s studio, each of us making a plush toy from fabric scraps. I took my cat-monster back to SF where it sat on a shelf, daring me to make him some friends. In 2004, I created The Woollyhoodwinks, a line of five woolen plush toys, and with a friend-turned-business partner, we released the Hoodwinks into the world. We were approached by a publisher who wanted a kids’ book, so we wrangled a couple more friends and “The Woollyhoodwinks vs. The Dark Patch” was the collaborative result.

The Woollyhoodwinks were gaining momentum on their way to commercial stardom until the financial crisis of 2007/8 forced to close almost all of the approximately 200 boutique stores that carried them. The ‘Winks didn’t survive (commercially, anyway), but my fascination for wool did! I began creating wall hangings and other fiber art with much of the wool that I had sourced for the WHW. I even started a smaller plush toy venture with the Squake, and then the PipSquake. Though I never pushed for commercial success, I did find some enthusiasts and sold them in a handful of local shops around the holidays. Someday I may resurrect both the Squakes and the Woollyhoodwinks!

I loved the wool wall hangings, but was frustrated with the tedious and time-consuming process. It was quite a natural transition from wool to paper; paper was quick and messy and spontaneous! Suddenly I was creating several collages at once, without being hunched over a sewing machine.

Around the same time I started collaging with paper, I began collecting bits of rusted metal and driftwood and botanical elements and other organic flotsam. I created small sculptures from what I’d gathered and called them ‘rearrangements’. I was even employed to create a rearrangement for an album cover (google Meg Baird/Mary Lattimore)!

One day, out of the blue, I found myself fascinated with a simple piece of geometric art, a genre that had never been of much interest to me. But something about this particular piece inspired me to play around with lines and shapes and dimensions and illusions of depth. I acquired a table top book press and created plates so I could press variations and create series of prints on wood veneer. Some of these smaller pieces act as studies for larger geometric paintings on wood panels.

I do believe that there is consistency in everything mentioned above. All that I create is composed largely of organic elements, all of which have their own unique textures and tones. And each finished piece is a composite of these elements and has its own tactile appeal.