My work draws on my childhood in an evangelical church and how those values entangle with classic notions of American culture, beauty, sex, gender, and home.

In the spirit of thrift and sustainability, I scour New York City’s curbs in search of orphaned items — a child’s tutu, caution tape, a wooden baby gate — trusting the materials I find to begin the process. What I don’t find, I create out of widely-accessible media such as newspaper, cardboard, and textiles. As I glue, paint, weave, and cut with both hands, young-perfectionist me finds ease and present-day me finds flow. The materials and I are both transformed into something new. It’s only later in the process that I figure out how all the scraps I’ve collected fit together, leading my pieces to be serendipitous, resourceful, low impact, and imperfect.

I am fascinated by the fateful moment of disillusionment when we question our identity and everything we’ve been taught. My current work leers at the adorable horror of being a girl and turns the world’s uninvited gaze back on itself. In my solo show, Play Date, multilayered pieces ranging from sculptures to collages combined personal memorabilia and found materials while recurring ribbons, pink, mirrors, and religious icons knit the whole series together.

The journey began at the gallery’s entrance with Have Mercy, The Princess Series, Birth Control Altar, Don’t Let the Bastards Set You Down, and Your Ass Is Grass. Elsewhere, 4-Letter Word and McCrèche perched on pedestals, daring visitors to look closer.

In the “baby’s room,” nestled near the windows, a not-so-sweet nursery was furnished with I Am My Own Baby, Daddy Stitch, Baby Mobile, and Babygate.

Ribbons, pink, mirrors, and religious icons weave through the rooms, echoing the sweet loss of innocence and turning the world’s uninvited gaze back on itself. Here, adorable meets horror, and the absurdity of being a girl is laid bare. Play Date is a grown-up game of show-and-tell where the toys are symbols and the stories are…complicated.