I have always had a fascination with books. From the moment I learned to read I would have a different book in every room of the house. It’s the anticipation of a story, the weight of the words as they come off the page and become part of my own consciousness. I want to explore why these words and objects spike so much interest in me. Sometimes it’s the name of a chapter, an entire paragraph, or maybe just the title and binding color that make it stand out. I feel that once read, the words abandoned on a shelf need new life.  How can I revive them in another form where they are given purpose again?

There are many parallels between we as humans and books. Books as a physical object age, as we do.  They have a feeling, a weight, a smell, and like us they have so much more happening on the inside – a hidden power and mystery beneath the surface.

As a mother, I feel a sense of urgency in my work to show my children how important their voices are. That real love, self-worth, confidence, strength and compassion are chapters of their story that they control. The illustrative and playful style of the silhouettes over torn pages evoke those chapters. It’s as if narrative exists below, covered by translucent layers of life. And here their images lie - solid, calm and unwavering above the storm.