I've been thinking about what's missing. Not from the panels themselves, but from the experience of standing in front of one. You can see the encaustic wax, the reclaimed fabric, the botanical impression pressed into the surface. What you can't see is where the fabric came from, or when the panel was made, or the story behind where the material came from. That's the part I want to give you. Here's what I've been imagining: a small chip embedded in each panel, the kind you can tap or hold your...

I am a hoarder of materials. Not in a chaotic way. In the way that an artist who grew up feeling like nothing should go to waste keeps things carefully, in flat files and portfolios, for reasons that aren't always clear at the time. Just in case. Just because throwing them away felt wrong.These are from college art school. More than fifteen years ago. They're print proofs from an etching class, specifically from a piece I made called For the Greater Good. I made them on copper plates using a...

There comes a point in every growing project when the project starts making decisions for you. For the past several months, Weave of Life has been growing in our apartment living room. My encaustic painting table in one corner, the Glowforge on a folding table by the window, materials stacked along every wall, and Huxtable, my old grumpy studio dog, holding down the one small couch. It worked. The panels kept coming. But somewhere along the way, Charlie and I stopped being able to move...