I make hand-pulled prints with plant friends, harvested with care, using a gel plate and water-soluable nontoxic inks. Sometimes I paint the prints with watercolor and gouache, and sometimes I cut them up and collage them together. Most are 16 x 20 inches; a couple are 8 x 10. 

Art making for me is both pure play and a practice of suspending all conscious motives. I don’t plan or envision at all; I just mess around and see what happens. I love the tactile processes of printmaking and collaging. I am enchanted by the layering of traces and textures of things, and by the symbolic resonance of plant forms. Often, the thickets that emerge convey personal meaning to me, but in a way that remains refreshingly vague.

I like thicket as a concept-container for the density of unspoken vibes we’re all swimming in—subtle and peripheral, yet soupy. A rich decomposition-composition process is constant, with new stuff forming that nobody could have planned, that nobody can understand, that nobody even knows about. There’s some rest and relief in surrendering to that, like being picked up and carried by a gentle giant.