ARTIST STATEMENT
Tatting is more than lace — it is a legacy, knotted by hand. For me, it is a sacred thread running through generations, tying present to past, strength to softness, memory to material.
Needles, threads, and lace have lived in my hands since childhood. Taught by my mother, a gifted seamstress and lacemaker, I was sewing before I could spell it — my own machine at five, many needle arts by ten, and a lifelong passion for cloth and creation. When I first discovered a book of tatting patterns, something stirred deep within me. I didn’t just want to learn — I needed to. I failed, I tried again, and I learned to twist thread into something strong, delicate, and profoundly alive.
As a former Ordnance Technician in the US Marine Corps, I know the weight of destruction. Now, I craft lace instead — jewelry inspired by sunlight and shadow, sea and soil. The juxtaposition is intentional. Where once I handled weapons, now I hold threads. What was once built to break, I now tangle into beauty. My work is a quiet vow: to repair, to remember, to root and to release.
Each piece is drawn from the natural world — the glint of water, the curve of a petal, the hush of snow, the rough grace of driftwood, the way life finds its way even in the smallest places. In lace, as in life, strength hides within fragility. The knots twist first one way, then another, each holding firm on a journey shaped by time, tension, and touch. The changing color of thread echoes our own aging and wear — wounds and wonders alike. Beads and stones mark support and memory, sparkling like milestones in a path well-lived.
My tatting is a form of becoming — rooted, embraced, and free.