A nod to the author Sue Monk Kidd, this series is a homage of sorts to the relationship I had with my Mother.
I have bee thinking about my mother a lot lately. She passed away 20 years ago, before some of the most expansive ad expressive moments of my life. There is so much I would have liked to have shared with her.

However, ours was not always a close relationship. That doesn’t mean it was tumultuous. Just filled with its own set of challenges. I was challenging. I know I was not easy to raise. I was a finicky eater (still am, only now it is a trend), a creative thinker, slow to process and overly emotive. She didn’t know what to do with me and I didn’t know how to be with her. Not for lack of trying by either of us.

While making these two pieces, I found myself thinking about her. These thoughts came in waves of triads. I found myself reflecting on what I learned from her and what she in turn might have learned from me. And what we knew together. Who I was, what she wanted me to be (or so I believed) and who I have become.

I love the scope of expression of this series as I make my way through my respect for her, my understanding of her, and my yearning for her, still after 20 years. I see us as perfectly imperfect (I) and the scars and impressions we left on each other (II). It is her. It is me, It is Us. Tied to each other, unfolding, yielding, holding on.

The three dimensional components of the piece were created from one sheet of paper, torn, soaked and peeled apart. The paper curls and folds naturally in reaction, much like how our own lives are shaped by events. It is purposely left blank, leaving the fibrous scars formed from the pulling apart. Beautiful. Rough. Scarred. The threads are unraveling as though yielding to the force of the paper as it curls into its self symbolic of how we are bound by unseen forces– limiting beliefs formed from stories of the past and heartache.and the underscoring emotions surrounding these events.

The relationship between Mothers and Daughters are so complex and beautiful. We work to write our own lives, yet are influenced by the women who came before us. Holding onto their tragedies and triumphs we make our own way in the world.