I’ve been contemplating Indra’s Net lately, that ancient metaphor of infinite interconnectedness. It’s a vision of a web so vast that each intersection holds a jewel reflecting all others—a delicate dance of light and shadow, an echo of our own existence.
And within that web, I’m drawn to the spaces between the atoms, those invisible gaps that seem to hold everything and nothing all at once.
The Taoist text speaks of this beautifully:
“Shape clay into a vessel; it is the space within that makes it useful.”
It’s the emptiness, the unfilled, where meaning breathes, where love resides. It’s this space that has been calling to me lately, in the studio, in life—the understanding that what connects us is often what isn’t seen or spoken, but felt in the quiet between.
My work has always been about repetition, the mirroring dots and lines that weave through each piece. I’ve long thought of memories with my loved ones as dots and interconnected lines, appearing and reappearing in my paintings.
This new series of small works is an exploration of that idea—the idea of captured space, of holding onto the invisible threads that bind us to each other.
They are a response to energy, in their creation and also the intangible energy that echos throughout space.
This past year has been an incredibly challenging one for my family. My husband was diagnosed with brain cancer, and it’s been a year this weekend since he underwent major brain surgery after a catastrophic fall from a high scaffold.
I didn’t think he would survive the accident, but tomorrow, we celebrate his birthday, filled with gratitude not only for his survival but for his unwavering bravery and creativity throughout this journey.
In our darkest times, it’s this feeling of being connected to something bigger, something intangible, that has sustained me.
The sense that we are all part of this vast, intricate web—held together by love, by energy, by moments that shimmer in the spaces between—is what keeps me moving forward, both in life and in my work.