Currently I am on my sixth life.  I live near a lake and some woods and wait for my children to burst through the door.  In my previous life I performed my MFA at the University of Chicago’s Department of Visual Art.  Prior to my appearance I lived and died in Florence, Italy from a poisoned fruit.  In my third life I was  semi-spoiled and American and rode around in the back of trucks, sometimes dancing.  The life before that I was a mermaid in Rome.  My very first life I was born in the Soviet Union, there people spent life standing in line for some sausage.  In each life I am an artist.



Often, I let the objects and materials do the “talking,” and believe in their secret intelligence.   I think of myself as provoking, indulging, and enabling the inanimate to perform.  The materials, colors, and installations all become part of a new kind of visual sentence, that with the sum of their parts transcends their sometimes humble origins. I deflate and inflate a plastic bag until it loosens into a breath, and then hangs like a field of color.  The quotidian detritus is paired with sculptural forms that are the relatives of furniture, pedestals, and amorphous minimalist limbs, creating an uneven intimacy.

Image and figures constructed on paper from bits of body and home, stirred by an extrasensory knowing and indulgent of myth and pop.  Poetry is in tandem with the work and made ensemble. It calls the ego to order and spreads my meanings on a cooling rack.