Three Voices

This piece started—again—with the resin artist whose work has inspired so much of what I’ve made. I wanted to flip her shapes inside out. I echoed the forms from her beads and made windows in bright yellow silk, planning to fill each one with beads. The yellow on its own was beautiful—loud and full of energy, like it already had something to say.

But once I started adding beads, it lost something. The silk felt buried. I kept trying—pulling beads off, putting new ones on—but it just wasn’t working. It didn’t feel right. Eventually I realized I was trying to force it instead of listening to what it wanted to be.

So I left the mess. The beads stayed where they’d fallen, and I let that be part of the piece. A reminder that sometimes things don’t work—and that’s okay.

Then I decided to bring in real voices. I asked LZ, Maggie, and Ruth to write down a few words that captured their 2023. Just little snapshots from the year. I traced their handwriting and stitched over it in black thread—preserving their words and that year.

It’s not just my piece anymore. It’s theirs too.

Broomfield, Ruth Roberts Pumpkin Patch Trail

I’ve always loved running the trails in Broomfield, especially in the fall. As the grasses dry out, they turn golden and brittle, whispering and crackling in the wind — like the landscape is alive and speaking.

One of my favorite spots is the Ruth Roberts Open Space at Dillon Road and Hwy 287. In autumn, there’s a pumpkin patch nearby that you might recognize — a reminder of the season.

I wanted to capture the beauty of those wild, waving grasses in that open space — their movement, their texture, their subtle color shifts. This piece is my stitched interpretation of that open space.

Butterflies & Beads

This one started with an incomplete piece of upholstery fabric that I had picked up at Crate and Barrel years ago when picking a fabric for a chair...the fabric is the butterfly at the top right.

Then, I recreated each butterfly (in my own way, each is different) in different directions.  I added the bees and ladybugs because there was white space in between the butterflies, making it feel empty and I wanted them to come alive.

I added the bees and ladybugs and liked it.  Decided not to do a fully beaded abstract background, in other words, filling in the white space, because I perceived it would make the design feel too heavy and I thought the extra pattern would distract from the pattern in the butterfly wings.

Love is a Wild Thing

Kacey Musgraves on repeat.

"You can’t find it, sitting on the shelf in a store.
If you try to hide it, it’s gonna shine even more.
Even if you lose it, it will find you."

Love isn’t predictable. It moves like rivers searching for the ocean, like flowers breaking through concrete, like melodies carried on the wind. It thrives in the unexpected, blooming where you least expect it.

I had pieces of bright silk that felt like this song—vibrant, untamed, alive. I stitched them together, starting with leaves unfurling from a single point. But soon, the design took on a life of its own. Shapes overlapped, hearts and petals intertwined, movement spilled beyond the lines. It felt wild, like love itself—uncontainable, ever-growing, beautifully free.

Love is a wild thing.