My artistic practice is deeply rooted in the rugged and rustic landscapes of rural backcountry Idaho. Having spent my formative years in the small towns of central Idaho and now calling a country home in Southern Idaho my own, the landscapes, culture, and traditions of this region have profoundly shaped my practice. Generations of my family have come from economically modest backgrounds, and I am the descendant of a long line of working-class citizens who have strived to be self-sufficient and reliant on their inherent skills. Craft was not just a choice but a necessity for my family. With minimal income, the need for skill and craft was essential to attain small comforts and indulgences. Craft and the ability to be self-reliant have become a generational heirloom that unites my family tree.

Embedded within the lessons of making, I discovered moments of mutual connection and joy—joy of process and joy of material. Both are fundamental in my work. Through the process of art-making, Craft has transformed itself into a humble offering. My work conveys a message of care for both my elders and my chosen materials. I've learned that there is pride in making objects by hand, that through time and attention to detail, we transfer our devotion into something to be shared. I honor these rural and communal skills every day in my studio practice.

To honor Craft and my rural roots, I often reflect on cherished memories of instruction and learning, recalling times my family shared tasks that enhanced our living conditions and improved kinship through group labor and familial collaboration. The slow and deliberate process of Craft is a way for me to demonstrate care while also finding connection. Connection to the materials used as well as connection to those whose bodies and skillful hands have passed from this world. Those who I can only access through meditation and memory. My father is one of these people. He was my first woodworking teacher, and his dedication to Craft still illuminates my practice even after his passing. He taught me to see the possibility and beauty in humble and overlooked things. His words have moved me years later to create work centered around these lessons. Now our conversations take on a different cadence; we communicate through Craft, material, and ingenuity. The connection I feel to those who have passed is a comfort, but the longing that accompanies grief is always present and subtly felt throughout the work.

To process this grief, I reconstruct memories that have been altered by loss. I feel a draw or a need to attempt some sort of restoration or even resurrection of memory. To grasp for a time before loss and grief transformed these moments into deep longing. Material has become the means to which I anchor myself to those moments. I can easily resurrect the memory of my grandmother humming in her kitchen by brushing my fingertips across cotton lace. I can revive the memory of my father laboring under his truck when viewing patinated concrete. The texture of plaster transports me to childhood games of hide and seek. Using material as an abstract anchor point for memory allows for a more universal response and accessibility. These materials are not only representative of common household items, but they can also arouse a recalling of memory. The tactile recollections the material conjures are inherent because of how common they appear in most households. The materials utilized within the work are often items used in home building and home making. Mediums such as plaster, cement, lumber, fabric, and wax provide a domestic quality of humbleness that speaks to my rural foundation.

To honor these memories and my devotion to Craft, I apply meticulous details and skillful workmanship to elevate modest materials to something beyond a common household experience. The pieces become relics to hold fractured memories. The low-brow materials are transformed into objects that are precious and admirable, things to be revered, pieces that hint at reminiscence. The evolution from mundane to extraordinary parallels my sentiments about the underrepresented and often overlooked beauty of the rural community and landscapes I admire daily.