SAFE
Having moved often and living far from immediate family, I have been grieving a lack of rootedness. I traced my sense of safety back to my grandparents’ farm in Carrollton, Georgia—a place sold before I could return to it. When I later discovered one of my grandmother’s ancestral quilts used as packing material in a box of inherited objects, it unexpectedly reconnected me to that sense of home. This work explores quilts as vessels of familiarity and care, using encaustic, vellum, and Dura-Lar to balance serenity with instability. Patterns borrowed from security envelope interiors reference fragile systems of protection. Together, these pieces invite reflection on the fleeting nature of safety and belonging.
DRAWN
This work brings moth and butterfly patterning into conversation with the linings of security envelopes. The envelope interiors—designed to conceal and protect—have become symbols of safety for me, while butterflies suggest joy, lightness, and renewal. Set side by side, these patterns hold a gentle tension: instinctual flight alongside constructed protection. Moths and butterflies move through the world without certainty, guided by fragile wings and unseen currents. Security envelopes reflect our human impulse to contain, to guard what feels vulnerable or precious. Together, these forms trace a space between freedom and control, joy and defense. The work lingers in that space, asking what it means to long for stability in a world shaped by change—and why the feeling of safety, however fleeting, matters so deeply.