I long for rhododendron, the deep green of its waxy leaves reflected in a river's flow. 

I can see mica shimmering in sand on the bank and up through the ever-changing currents. 

I can remember my skin getting stained purple from picking black raspberries and the briars leaving scrapes on my wrists, making the berries an even sweeter reward. 

I long to see a shed snake skin caught on barbed wire, a reminder of transformation and how sometimes even the sharp encroachments made by humans can become a part of the whole. 

My work represents observations of the environment that I grew up in. It is a remembering of the Appalachian landscape that is quickly fading before my eyes and beneath my feet. 

By working with wild clay from North Carolina my work is rooted to this place. I enjoy creating dynamic surfaces and textures on my clay pieces to highlight the details in each flower of goldenrod, each drupelet of a berry, each barb of wire. I can feel these creations moving through me and into the clay, perhaps already in its memory, waiting to be shaped.

My drawings are characterized by my own lived experience and offer a glimpse into intimate moments. When they are brought to life through animation, it feels as though time is being eclipsed. They are a representation of what I am reaching for, what is dancing out in front of me, and things that I have already let go of. They are history and prophecy tied together.

By using clay as a drawing material and hand drawn animations as a digital glaze, I create installations that represent the tangled webs of land, water, time, and human bodies. It is a way to remember the resiliency of these things that move in circles, cycles, and seasons. My installations and the process of making my work is a way to record the past and have hope for the future.