In Residence, Monday, 10/26 – Sunday, 11/8

Join me at Workshop Gallery Artists Foundation at Brooklyn Workshop Gallery for the 2015 finale to Native/Immigrant City, my exploration of New York natives, immigrants and transplants from other parts of the country through soft sculpture. Since December 2014, I've been collecting stories and memories of moving to and from NYC, surviving rent hikes, questionable roommates and landlords, and falling in love with the City despite all the stress and vowing never to leave.

I translate friends' and strangers' stories into stop motion animations and embroideries on fabric paintings and sculptures. I try to give voice and tactile form to varying cultural points of view. With a Brooklyn Arts Council grant, I've had the opportunity to host some communal storytelling and embroidery events in the past year. Thanks to 61 Local and Brooklyn Workshop Gallery for donating space.

From 10/26–11/8, you can find me at Brooklyn Workshop Gallery. Special hours are:
Monday, 10/26, 12–7pm
Saturday, 10/31, 12–5pm
Sunday, 11/1, 2–5pm
Monday, 11/2, 12–6pm
Tuesday, 11/3, 11am–4pm

Join us on Thursday, 11/5 from 7-9pm for a poetry reading featuring KC Trommer and friends.

For additional hours and dates, contact me to set up a private viewing of the work, or look for updates via Facebook.

Baker's Dozen

About two months ago, I sat down with my friend, KC, a poet and collage artist. You can see and read her work here. She gave me some poems to read, and I gave her some of my artwork to look at. We decided to try to combine our artistic voices.

At top is an image of my embroidery of one of her poems, "Baker's Dozen:"

Pretty is a pat on the head,

The folds of the body she swims in

and from which she is fled.

Pretty is a pat on the head.

It isn't the form that locates her dread,

it's the distance from whom she's been.

Pretty is a pat on the head,

the folds of the body she swims in.

We did end up talking a bit about swimming, which is a sport I have no talent for (I think you all know by now how I feel about running). We agreed that an undercurrent of water ran through a few of the poems. 

I stitched this poem on a piece of an old bathing suit that never quite fit. I actually have had it since I went to summer camp as a teenager. It always seemed old fashioned to me, and was intended for a body with more curves than mine.