A desire line appears when a path paved for human use fails to take into account human nature. Two cement walkways in perpendicular orientation connected by multitudes of (human) feet over time, forming a third route through the grass, worn down to dirt. Sometimes a curved trail, sometimes a diagonal one, they show how we get to where we need to go when our best laid plans fall short.

Utilizing the DIY structure(s) of Ken Isaacs and Victor Papanek from the 1970s, Desire Lines builds upon the ‘room within a room’ concept and extends it to conjure a future within a present instead. A fabric piece, coded video projection and 3D prints work in concert to suggest nuanced and alternative ideas about environmentalism by means of rewilding, native plant sowing, stewardship, self-education, community and play.



Featured in:
Anedged: 2024 MFA First Year Exhibition ︎︎︎

︎ installation
︎ solarpunk
︎ computation
︎ fiber 

Floating selvedges, circumsolar orbit. Galileo knew something about my dad and me.

Floating selvedges, circumsolar orbit. Galileo knew something about my dad and me offers a cultural exploration of strategies for addressing climate change, centering on domestic implementation of solar energy. Inspired by a personal exchange between myself and my father, Floating Selvedges interlaces textual elements and woven connections to construct a layered narrative around familial relationships on a warming planet.


Featured in: Ecosocialism or Extinction, Swords into Ploughshares Gallery, 1/24 ︎︎︎

︎ installation
︎ solar power
︎ weaving

Rule 110 is a beaded art piece depicting the elementary cellular automation algorithm of the same name. Cellular automata, the algorithm on which Conway’s Game of Life is built, is significant for its ability to model a range of complex behaviors. As defined by Steven Wolfram and Matthew Cook, rule 110 is unique among cellular automata due to its proven universality and Turing completeness. Depicted here in beads of jasper and white jade, the rule enters the third dimension as a weighty fabric, connecting the worlds of scientific computation and organic elegance.

Featured in:

Best in Fiber Arts Award, University of Michigan Science as Art Competition 2/24

Mending the Net, A Fiber Club* group exhibition, 9/23 ︎︎︎

︎ beading
︎ algorithms
︎ biophilia

An exploration of chainmail, both as a material and metaphorical study. Mail, in its time, was valuable, labor intensive and passed on from person to person upon death on the battlefield. It’s both protection and a great burden. Under its weight, wearers may be saved from deadly stabs, but still suffer blunt force trauma, bruised under the protective guise of the metal fabric.

Mail was “the primary defensive armor in Europe for more than one thousand years” on the continent in which all my ancestors once resided. As Resmaa Menakem outlines in his book, My Grandmother’s hands, European settlers arrived on Turtle Island unhealed and disregulated as they “built” their “new world” from fragments of their old one.

Mail as trauma, the weight of it, the consequences for those who perpetuate it.

In efforts to process this personal history on a corporeal level, I spent three weeks hand-crafting as large of a piece of mail as I could (in the end, a small one) from aluminum rings, hung it on the wall, swung at it with an axe and mended it with un-dyed wool.

Sept—2023

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