Gathered Flora
A body of work that traces maps of memory, prayer, and return through materials that live, fade, and fragment. Each piece begins with a walk: I gently gather from flora that grows beside the sidewalks around my Los Angeles neighborhood—wild sage, cosmos, hibiscus, ferns, cypress, asters, daisies, and weeds without names. Pressed and preserved, they form hushed symmetries transcribed in petal and stem.
These floral compositions are layered onto handmade cotton paper, washed with watercolor and earth pigments, and sometimes embedded into mycelium forms. The materials are tactile, delicate, and, for a time, alive. These works blend sculpture and painting, inviting viewers into cycles of slowness, ritual, and transformation.
This work is made for the kitchen altar, the waiting room, the grief walk, the moonlit garden, the compost pile. It’s work meant to echo for a time, and to help us remember we belong to the earth—and always have.
Good Continuation, Malibu 2025, 11.5 x 11.5 inches, handmade watercolor on cotton paper, pressed phacelia, miniature lupine, silver lupine, wild mustard, additional unidentified flora; handmade watercolor on cotton paper
Gathered off the side of Malibu Canyon Road after the Franklin Fire, this piece honors the quiet resurgence that follows destruction. Wildflowers emerge where wildfire once swept—phacelia, lupine, and mustard forming a circle of soft defiance and return.
I Thought I Saw an Opening (Sunny Sands, April) 2025, 9 x 12 inches, natural pigment, cotton paper, pressed flowers of apricot mallow, bladder sage, desert fiddleneck. Composed with wildflowers gathered during an April walk through the desert, this piece gestures toward the subtle openings—emotional, perceptual, spiritual—that the desert reveals. A meditation on place, smallness, and belonging in vastness.

