In Their Memory

In Their Memory, Princeton Battlefield, 2026

In Their Memory, 973 Mercer Street, 2026

In the months leading up to the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, my thoughts centered on the greatest contradiction of the Revolutionary era. In 1776 and the years that followed, people fought and sacrificed dearly because they truly believed in the principles of liberty and freedom. They engaged in bloody combat and suffered incredible deprivation. The suffering was incalculable. They did this in the name of noble principles.

Yet, this was also a time when many people in New Jersey and throughout the 13 colonies had slaves. Slavery was an omnipresent horror that reflected a very different worldview than the liberties being fought for on the battlefield.

Princeton epitomized this contradiction between liberty and slavey. It was a site of a famous and hugely consequential battlefield. What must it have been like for enslaved people to hear the gunfire and stand witness to what was happening around them, but not for them? I couldn’t stop thinking about this contradiction, and for me, it also had a personal dimension.

One of my ancestors was an early settler in Princeton (Stony Brook) and the house still stands. This ancestor also owned slaves—a difficult fact to come to terms with. I wondered where they were buried and what I could do to honor their memory. They stood on this land and their labor helped make Princeton a prosperous region. I decided to create a piece acknowledging unknown people and their legacy so they can have a place within this anniversary. There is a tendency to want to whitewash difficult history and avoid an honest reckoning with the past. Sometimes it feels too huge to know where to start. But I believe we can all do something.

For this reason, this flag has been painstakingly stitched by hand as an offering of time and skill to the memory of enslaved people of Princeton and throughout the original 13 colonies. I can’t undo history, but I can still do something.

After the flag was completed, I returned to several significant sites in Princeton to photograph it. My hope is to keep bringing the flag to more buildings associated with slavery in Princeton, drawing attention to this history and prompting opportunity for discussion and remembrance.

In Their Memory, Morven, 2026

Last Year's Kids

Parents spend a lot of time thinking about how to keep their child(ren) safe. Personally, I find it reassuring to turn to statistics and facts. There are many perceived threats to the safety of our children. What should I actually be worrying about? I was surprised to learn that gun violence is the leading cause of death for children and teens.

It is easy to become numb to the horrific toll of gun violence in this country. Each new school shooting brings a flurry of attention, and then the story fades from the headlines. Parents are left grieving the unimaginable. But school shootings are not, statistically-speaking, where young people are being killed. It is on their own streets and in their own homes. What could I, as one person, do to change this?

I had begun making quilted portraits of my own daughter in 2024. What if I started to make portraits of children killed by gun violence in New Jersey? I began this project in late 2025, and my goal is to complete portraits of the five children killed in 2025 by the end of 2026. The portraits pictured here are currently works in progress.

I put great thought into the details of each portrait. Obituaries frequently include details about what that child loved, what their personality was like, and what made them special. I want to honor them and their lives. I want to create a lasting tribute that can also raise awareness of a senseless tragedy. We have the power to change gun violence in the United States. It doesn't have to be like this. How many children will it take to build momentum for change?

Cianna Lee, 2026 (work in progress)

Yasin Morrison, 2026 (work in progress)

Evangelina Vasquez, 2026 (work in progress)

First Day of Preschool, 2025

Baby Quilts

"I've always loved old quilts. I love seeing the stitches of the original maker and appreciating the work that went into them. I like to imagine the woman (or women) who made them. I also love seeing the signs of wear and tear that tell me the quilt has been used and loved."

Quilts have inspired my artistic practice for many years; I wondered, why not literally use them as the starting point for art? I know many old quilts end up tucked away in closets and drawers. By incorporating them into my artwork, I can give them new life. I also love the idea of engaging in an artistic collaboration across time, with an unknown maker.

Quilts are a unique art form because they are fundamentally functional. They have both a maker and a user; someone who literally slept under it, snuggled up with it, and may have even dragged it across the floor. Imagine if paintings were treated the same way! I love seeing evidence of use because it is such a special part of the quilting tradition. Quilters usually want their quilts to be loved and used for warmth and comfort.

There is also an artistic tradition of making quilts to celebrate the arrival of a baby. The fact that an old quilt was made for a child holds special significance for me. I look for one that speaks to me on secondhand sites like eBay and wait eagerly for it to arrive. Once it does, I begin to imagine the composition.

These quilts were originally made for an unknown child who was loved and celebrated. I rework them to celebrate my own daughter's arrival and childhood: her wide grin on the first day of preschool; her walking along a path wearing fairy wings. These are the small moments I want to savor and celebrate.

I know I am far from the first woman to put skill and time into a quilt as an expression of love for a child. By using an old quilt that has been loved by both the maker and user, it acknowledges the many women and children who came before us, that we are a part of something much larger that will continue long into the future.

Fairy Wings, 2025

To play, press and hold the enter key. To stop, release the enter key.

Kintsugi

2024 and 2025 brought a fair share of unexpected twists and turns. I've had to move twice, and without access to a studio, I began picking up a paintbrush again. I began working on a folding card table with some old paints and boards. Art has always been the thing that gets me through difficult times. Another unexpected source of comfort has been the Japanese concept of kintsugi.

Kintsugi has helped me re-frame difficult times. Instead of seeing the messiness of life as a flaw, or something to be ashamed of, maybe those experiences make me a better version of myself. I know the challenges I’ve faced have made me a more compassionate and empathetic person. I am someone who extends grace to people, because I know how hard life can be. I am a better person because of my struggles, not despite them.

"If a cup breaks, we can choose to glue it together as if it was never broken. Or we can allow the cracks to be honored for how they change an object. Maybe even make it more beautiful."

A Natural History

In late 2024 I began a series of butterfly-shaped art quilts “pinned” inside display shadow boxes and under glass domes. They are my ode to my daughter and how I wish I could somehow stop time during these glorious years of her childhood, when she is changing so fast it takes my breath away. Since becoming a mother, I think a lot about memory and the passage of time; these pieces are my humble attempt to freeze both in time.