Posthumous Collections (works in progress)

The last time my mom was well enough to visit my home she brought me one of her garden perennials in a mess of dirt and weeds. Annoyingly, she insisted on helping me plant them in the yard outside my studio. From this mess grew a white Astilbe, a lovely flowering bush that returns every year. I see it through the French windowed doors of my studio. I wish I appreciated her more in those moments – her presence and quiet influence.

Mom was an accomplished biologist and a lover of the natural world -- some of my fondest memories are of the moments we spent combing beaches for sea glass and shells while watching seabirds dive for fish. She loved to embroider and continued until she was no longer able to hold the needle and thread. She also enjoyed playing games with cards. We continued to play her favorites until she couldn’t anymore. She would get confused and upset. Towards the end, she spent entire days staring at her cards, touching and tearing them, holding them tightly if anyone tried to take them away.

I stopped making art when I became my mom’s primary caregiver during her final two years suffering from Parkinson’s and dementia. After she passed, I brought the things she collected and treasured into my studio: seashells, embroidery patterns and thread, decks of playing cards. Holding and arranging the things that she lovingly touched countless times helped me connect to her again, but in a new way. Like that mess of dirt my mom transformed into something beautiful outside my studio.