Hello
I have always been a daydreamer, ponderous and enthralled by the world around me. Decades of absorbing lush, engaging, rich environments across all human cultures have resulted in an aesthetic of maximalism. I'd dress like Mae West every day if it didn't look so uncomfortable. I'm attracted to texture, glamour, organic form, pattern and chaos. My camera is full of pictures of trees lit by moonlight, rusty barges, weather beaten concrete, dewy moss and so many clouds.
My goal in creation is sharing a moment, a concept, an idea, or an emotion with the viewer. I use digital tools to isolate light and dimension, shadowy forms and rich colors. I manipulate multiple images, layering up to a hundred of them to create pieces that are full of emotion, magic, wonder and color.
An overarching theme of my work is the dissolution of memory and identity. Following a lifelong fascination with the development and evolution of individual consciousness, I watched my mother's mind inevitably change during a brain tumor and stroke. This focused my work on the ephemeral nature of the self.
I live in Pittsburgh with a goofy, loving and supportive husband and two sweet stinkerish cats.
Each piece incorporates photographs taken by me as well as images from the creative commons.
My Story
There was a very serious moth, with wings of pearl and gold, a fashionable bow tie, and the fuzziest face. He went about his studies, which involved the mysteries of the universe, with diligence and ardor. He studied Fibonacci's sequence in sunflowers and logarithmic spirals in snail shells. In spider's webs he analysed proportion and leaves asymmetrical balance. Then one day he was passing through a garden counting the leaves on lilies, buttercups and daisies, when he came upon a porch light. Within the dazzling light he glimpsed colors arranged in fractal patterns. The very code of the universe barely visible within the blinding white light. The more he stared the more the patterns appeared and disappeared, making him bewildered with unreachable potential. While he sat on a buttercup, after being slightly bewildered by the heat of the lightbulb, he looked up to the sky and beheld the moon. Possibly because he was still bedazzled, or because the moon opened itself in a way hitherto unseen by other creatures, the moth found to his surprise fractals in more colors that we can imagine emanating from deep within the moon's glow. So far beyond the glow of the bulb, the moon held everything, every color, every pattern, every secret. The once serious moth mustered up his courage, and decided he was going to fly to the moon to find what he knew were answers to all of his questions. He strove upward, following the guiding spiral of light emitted by the moon. He was blown sideways by the South Wind, the gentlest of the winds. "You are not going to make it," the wind blew. "You are too unskilled." "I will learn as I rise," the moth replied, and set his jaw. He rose again, fluttering with all his might toward the skies, and was blown sideways by the East Wind. "You are too small," said the East Wind. "I am as big as my wings can carry, and I will make it to the moon," he replied. He flew skyward again, a look of fierce determination on his fuzzy face. He was once again blown sideways by the West Wind. "You are too feeble," said the West Wind, with a concerned wisp. "I am as strong as my will, which is made of iron," he asserted while his wings drummed a marching beat. "I will reach the moon." Again he flew straight up, and found himself blown sideways. by the North Wind. "You are too insignificant," said the North Wind, with a terrifying blow. The moth flapped his gorgeous wings and stated back, "I am as important as you are, and I will make it to the moon." He set off again, undeterred. "I am enough," he said to the universe, and flapped and flapped and flapped. He flew so high he began to get dizzy from lack of oxygen. Still, he kept going, the fractals drawing him in an unending spiral until he passed out from anoxemia. In his stupor he was visited by the goddess of the moon. "All of the answers are within you, little moth. Just as they are in me, in everything. You don't need me to solve the world, because you are solving it yourself with every breath," the moon instructed as her face exploded into a dandelion puff. The moth woke falling toward the earth at an incredible speed. His limbs were limp and his wings unresponsive. The four winds blew, one after another, keeping him safe from the impending ground. They kept him aloft, and he drifted in wider and wider circles, until he became part of a swirl of leaves gently floating to the earth. "I can't believe it," said the North Wind. "What a moth," said the West Wind. "With such a will," said the East Wind. "Strong as iron, with wings of gold and pearl, a moth of such grandeur we've been lucky to meet," said the South Wind. As the moth listened to their praise, he marvelled. "What happened?" he asked. "You made it to the moon, the East Wind replied. "We are sorry to have doubted you," said the West Wind. The moth rose up and stretched out his wings. At the tip of each wing was now a silver crescent, glittering in the moonlight. "I measure the world with my wingspan and find it to be just the right size. I shake dewdrops from my hips and the fall to create the perfect plop on the earth. Everything in balance, everything in place. I can rest with the knowledge that everything is as it should be," the moth folded his newly enhanced wings and curled up for a well deserved sleep, watched over by the moon, the four winds, the flowers, snails and spiders.