Gun Violence in Chicago and Chicago Cries, year

Gun violence has become a public health crisis. Inspired by a Chicago Public Media series of the same title, Gun Violence in Chicago, is one of two works that is a data representation of how bad things really are. A photo of three bullets taken at a military museum are reproduced in this fabric. There are 4,331 bullets here, one for each person shot in Chicago in 2016 every other hour. The second piece, Chicago Cries, is in the permanent collection of Chicago Sinai Congregation.

Hear Me Roar
Stainless steel beads, velvet, up-cycled frame, 18" x 28"

I'm enraged by the overturn of Roe. This piece channels my anger and the late Helen Reddy's iconic song "I Am Woman." This piece exhibited at Jessica Hagen Fine Art in Newport, RI, as part of Exponential, an exhibition featuring all female artists.

Pain, 2015
Metal beads, _____

In 2013 I broke my right hand in a fall. The bone healed quickly, but my brain did not: I developed chronic pain in areas of my body unrelated to my injury, slid into depression and suffered dissociative experiences during which I felt my consciousness leave my body. During my ordeal, well-meaning psychiatrists prescribed an ever-evolving cocktail of mood-altering pharmaceuticals to try and stabilize me. Ultimately, a gentle and patient psychotherapist diagnosed me with PTSD. She stuck with me for two years as I fought to climb out of a terrifying dark hole, finally emerging into the light wiser and mentally stronger than before my injury. And an equally wise MD specializing in the mind-body connection helped me to understand that the brain can both cause physical pain and be a powerful tool in eradicating it.

Pain is a day-by-day, chronological record of every pill I took on my two-year pharmacological journey. Created with metal African beads strung in one continuous strand, it is reminiscent of the ancient knotted string quipu the ancient Andean people used to count and mark the passage of time. Each type of bead represents one type of medication, some of which caused terrible side effects. While drugs can be unquestionably important in the treatment of mental illness, they can also be hastily over-prescribed and the healing power of the mind given short shrift. This piece evokes the yoke of pain I endured for three years, as well as the beauty that ultimately emerged from my struggle. ​

Grab 'Em By the Pussy

Still shocked that America elected a known molester of women to be President of the United States.

I Fro Up

Quilt made during a long, long winter when my two young sons were sick all the time. Shown in "Body/Image" at Hera Gallery, Wakefield, RI September 10 - October 11, 2022.

RIP RBG, 2020

A Jewish mourner's ribbon with lace.

Clean All The Things, 2020
Cleaning fibers and mops, ____

In the earliest days of the pandemic we were cleaning all the time.

Girl Talk, 2022
Infant onesies, hangers, mannequin head, plexiglass stand, sneakers, doll head, clamp

Infant onesies with the terrible things I've said to myself about my body. I spent a good part of my teenage years in a bikini on the beach in Narragansett, RI, my changing body on full display along with those of my peers. At home, I absorbed some unhealthy messages about how women’s bodies ought to look, and, of course, experienced idealized, airbrushed female bodies in the media. Unsurprisingly (and despite always being a healthy weight for my height), I developed a harshly critical inner voice about my appearance that continued into adulthood. This voice was relentlessly judgmental and downright cruel. It took on an even nastier tone after my body twice experienced the miracle of pregnancy and childbirth. Until one day, fed up with hating my mirror, I asked myself: “You would never say these things to a sweet baby girl. So why on earth are you saying them to yourself?” Girl Talk is this 60-year-old, soon-to-be-grandmother’s attempt to exorcise my body image demons. By putting my self-cruelty on display I’ve been able to realize the absurdity of treating myself so unkindly.

Indivisible?, 2017
Digital images on tea-dyed cotton, machine embroidered.

I made this after the 2016 US Presidential election, alarmed to have been jolted out of my echo chamber into a truly divided America...thus the black and white. I remained optimistic that the "stars", emojis that signify the things that unite us, would prevail during the Trump administration. Sadly, this has not been the case. In the private collection of a former Obama cabinet secretary.

Essential Workers, 2020
Found workers’ uniforms, ___buttons, ___size

This piece, created with found patches from workers' uniforms, honors the people on the front lines of the pandemic. The multitude of buttons represents the aggregation of their often invisible and under-appreciated labors. Private collection.

Quilts: 1990 - 2015

I have been making quilts for 30 years. I began by recreating traditional American designs in commercially printed fabric and now incorporate digital photography in my work.