I start with a blank canvas; a bolt of muslin, fabric dyes, and the primary colors in silkscreen paints. When I mix, I draw my palette from the seasons or my travels and each new texture is something tactile found in my environment. I gather images and objects everywhere, anything that catches my eye outdoors or in the studio becomes an artist's tool: pine cones, spoons, brushes, homemade stamps, and bamboo pens. I apply paint with abandon, exhausting the cups of paint, trying every combination. Each piece of fabric is a new exploration of color, form, and texture. They are paintings in themselves and when I bring them together on a giant white wall in my studio space each piece becomes a landmark or road in the map of the idea I am translating. When I am satisfied by my image from every position in the studio; from the fireplace step, from the window near the portrait of Gregor made by my daughter, from just over the TV playing the latest BBC Jane Austen miniseries, from the estate sale loveseat where I sit with my husband who wants to add one more little snip of red- just there, when I am satisfied, I begin to make it permanent. I layer each piece with batting and backing before stitching. The criss-crossing lines add to the structure and the layers build themselves until the map recites the colors, textures, shapes, and impressions of my life.
