three new pieces for sale two verses of one song —- Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river You can hear the boats go by You can spend the night beside her And you know that she’s half crazy But that’s why you want to be there And she feeds you tea and oranges That come all the way from China And just when you mean to tell her That you have no love to give her Then she gets you on her wavelength And she lets the river answer That you’ve always been her lover And you want to travel with her And you want to travel blind And you know that she will trust you For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind. —- three pieces:
releaf, 2023 28x19x1” materials include: -repurposed vintage quilting hoop -spent climbing rope -misc. fabrics ripped/deconstructed by hand — an old scarf that shed too much —batik fabrics —faux fur —green chiffon
cathedral, 2025 14×50” materials include: -fabric ripped by hand -your hoodie -vintage macrame cord -found wooden dowel (19”)
trunk, 2025 11×33” materials include: -batik fabric ripped by hand -woven cotton (chartreuse) -repurposed bike tubes -vintage macrame cord -found wooden dowel (21.5”) —-
Now Suzanne takes your hand And she leads you to the river She is wearing rags and feathers From Salvation Army counters And the sun pours down like honey On our lady of the harbour And she shows you where to look Among the garbage and the flowers There are heroes in the seaweed There are children in the morning They are leaning out for love And they will lean that way forever While Suzanne holds the mirror And you want to travel with her And you want to travel blind And you know that you can trust her For she’s touched your perfect body with her mind. -Suzanne by Leonard Cohen
whatever your It is, art can take It
we just gotta take a sec a paused rest to hand It over
there’s tender material below here. so please make the conscious decision to turn the page, or dive in. the story remains the same.)
i’ve been thinkin about
ma, mrs. joad (grapes of wrath by john steinbeck*) tellin casy that men should keep their sins to themselves
so as not to burden others
that a man’s sins are his own
but i also
believe in courage
and bravery
i get stuck between these two ideas
so i am going to
momentarily
unstick myself
with the poem below
to see what happens
the scene:
its a warm spring night
you can smell apple blossoms
you’ve snuck out of your house
to meet friends
the morning is approaching
friends are dropping off
one by one
and someone you only know through friends is walking on the other side of latta road
heading in the same direction
and its just the two of you now
and one of you makes up a line
(sends it softly through the quiet of night)
and one of you makes up the next line
(responding)
you beginning writing a story together
going back and forth
line for line
as you walk
and what becomes are summers where It feels strange
to spend a day a part
fires on the beach
chinese buffets
auctions
running off a greyhound bus after missing your stop
port in that hookah lounge
salvia on the train tracks
listening to the jazzfest from a scaffold
crossing that log
your hair in the morning
how you held your cigarette when lost in a song
us by regina spector
bricks of beer in boats docked along the genessee river
how you loved it when i sang
insistance
and i wonder if other people
who love you
think of you when they hear or say
‘woah.’
i had never met someone cool like you
cool like day drinking and turn me on im a radio by joni mitchell
cool like porches and basements
cool like a razor’s edge
cool like night drinking and blue
and i didnt say hello to you and your cousin at lux
and i didnt answer any of your pleading voicemails
(not even when you were struggling with terry (helovedyou))
and i didnt know how to ignore
the selfishness that had spread
i didnt say anything more
because we would’ve died
(how many times did we almost?)
we would’ve died
and you did.
the story remains the same.
—-
(with a nuzzle on your shoulder
as i stand up)
as alex small,
as a permanent thing,
*steinbeck aimed to devastate the reader with grapes of wrath. to create and offer a safe space for self evaluation in the face of devastation. the novel offers devastating clarity from the american vista, and a cool balming breeze. it’s helped- reading grapes of wrath. even devastation can help.
-the weft strings are the muscles and tendons, woven around the warp strings)
fighting weight, 2022
15.5x19x1”
materials include:
-thrifted picture frame*
-beginning with the red and moving clockwise: ripped fabric, garbage bags, jewelry ribbon, paper bags**, vintage gift ribbon, raffia, film, and tissue paper**
-dried daffodil rope** are the full rounds
*back in 2021, i wanted to figure out how to properly build a framed weaving//build a weaving into a frame. not just attach prongs or studs to warp, the end result a weaving attached to a frame. so i figgered and this is the method i came up with- to drill holes around the perimeter of the frame and warp through the frame of a weaving, vs around the frame.
**cord is a single strand, rope is single strands wrapped to create a strong material. these were first twisted into a rope, then woven
believe that what we find in quiet is truth
and the totems, the artwork offered here, are tools to help you find It
chicago’s union station has been a constant in my life since getting divorced and leaving new york with a backpack.
i love union station around 9, 9:30pm
this cathedral full of
weary travelers and sleeping unhoused bodies
and last night i was sitting
on a church pew
eyes turned upward
to the curved ceiling
of our cathedral
surrounded by sleeping unhoused bodies
and a man approached
with warm eye contact made
he said hello
and i did the same
he sat down three feet from me
on a church pew
he began removing items from his bag
and quietly,
in consideration of our company,
he asked me if i was traveling
no, i just like it here- you?
and he stuck out his chin
with a nod
his eyes moved slowly upwards
where mine returned
to the lives passed
to the curved ceiling
we sat for a long time
together
watching
our cathedral
surrounded by sleeping unhoused bodies
later that night
walking home to humboldt park
i saw a man frozen in time
right outside richard’s bar on grand almost to milwaukee
(it’s got that cool light outside)
and this frozen man is radiating
the scene:
too wide of a stance and a hunched forward posture
right elbow is highest the hand is holding one handle of a weighted, white tshirt bag
the left arm is lower and in his left hand is one handle of a empty grey t shirt bag
it is whipping around in the wind
a red ember
hangs from his mouth
the scene is frozen
except for one whipping bag
time is standing
i smile at him as i approach
hey- can yo’lp me wi’dis?
course. whater we doin?
i wanna g’disbag in d’odeh’un
suresuresure
i take the empty handle of the weighted higher bag with my right hand
and guide it slowly over to meet the other handle where his hand sits
i take the handle of the empty bag with left hand
and we slowly begin to lower the heavy white bag
down into the empty grey one
slowly
together
and as time begins to
slowly
chip again
i take a large inhale slowly
followed by an even larger
deeper
exhale
slowly
and as time begins
to tick between us,
realization comes-
this whole situation is covered in goo
accumulated
blown around
whipped
and aerated
during the time
this man
who has been frozen in time
considering this task
standing
hunched
breathing
pulsing
dripping
from both nose and
open mouth
and i decide to remain
with this man
in this moment of ours
in this humanity of ours
as we slowly move a white bag
into a grey one
together
he thanks and blesses me
‘same to you sir’
and we move on.
i with 2.3 radiating miles
ahead of washing my hands
eyes turned upwards
to the curved ceiling
of our cathedral
moving within the steady pulse
that quakes within
the streets of chicago, illinois
—-
cathedral, 2025
14×50”
materials include:
fabric ripped by hand, vintage macrame cord, found wooden dowel (19”w)
—-
as creeping dendrites,
quiet as wood,
ps-
i shared a weaving i deconstructed in a post yesterday. notice the curly red ribbon in the fringe of ‘cathedral’- same red recycled sari ribbon that was knotted up in the deconstructed piece, receiving a new place to soften in. deconstruct to reconstruct, dear reader, reap to sow
when i started making art when i decided to wrangle toolboxEarth, there were considerations to sit and figger on.
im not a gentle person so i knew that the art i made would need to be able to withstand a storm withstand a drop be able to brush it off
be resilient to the necessary roughness of Life
five new tapestries (a back and forth knotting, versus the cyclical knotted movement of the round weaves)
five new tapestries to help you ground because art can take it
whatever your ‘it’ is art can take it —
downward moment found pvc pipe, hemp, macrame cord, seamed edging, scarf that shed too much, recycled sari ribbon, seam from an old work shirt dowel measures: 20″ piece measures: 13x48ish”
found pvc pipe, many printed cotton, chiffon, bed sheet, felted and velvet yarns, four different types of (white)rope knotted throughout/fringe dowel measures: 18″ piece measures: 13x32ish”
