i have spread my dreams under your feet

Live from the Iowa Alps, Windy Goat Acres, Chelsea IA

i have spread my dreams under your feet

Wood, fabric, found objects, made objects, gold leaf

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.' W.B. Yeats

I have been sharing a glimpse of our life since I felt like I had something to share. A carefully curated moment captured with intention and purpose. Moments of our daily lives frozen in time in a photograph. An overtly designed, staged, and stylized look at our life, our love, and our mess.

When asked what I do for work, I don't always proudly say I am a mother, a caregiver, I am raising my daughters - like it's not enough to be that. Yes, I am an artist, but that has not been the center of my world for 8 years now.

The work is about a domestic life, raising children, daily life, and finding the beauty in the struggle. Home. A place where one feels safer than anywhere else. Where our existence is la vie en rose.

A highly romanticized chore - the laundry. The lines filled with our landscape, our play, our dirt and dust, our everyday.

There are chores that are finite and there are chores that are endless. Laundry is endless. The piles are often mountainous and without end. There is a routine of the process of sorting, washing, drying and folding that becomes ritualistic; when the days are slower and the laughter and playing can be heard echoing in from the other room.

So I remind myself to tread lightly and fill the breaks and the cracks in our days with gold.