When I couldn’t physically get away from those who were doing unspeakable things to me, I lost myself in an intimate connection with the detail of wood grain or the weave of fabric. Often in childhood I would escape to the wood at the back of our house.
A Silver Birch tree grew there that had three trunks growing out of a central trunk and when I stepped into the middle of these, it became my rocket ship. Inside my rocket my task was to peel pieces of papery bark, without breaking them, into identical horizontal strips. My whole being focused on this task and allowed me to not feel anything about what had been happening at home.
As a grown up, I have a compulsion for detail in my art. I have no idea whether this is because of or in spite of that intense connection and need to escape but I do know that I adore detail and repetition. You will see this in my work over and over. I also like to think about the meaning of my work once repetition and detail begin to establish themselves. As I add layers, I begin to see themes emerge reflecting internal and external influences such as my processing of childhood trauma and how that relates to what is going on in the world.