I value an artwork becoming a secret ritual or an afterthought in daily life compared to the spectacle and formality of a public viewing experience. Observations from working in museums as a receptionist and in residential homes as a cleaner sculpted this belief and the interplay of private and public in my practice.
  At times, the audience’s role is redefined as a wearer or maker, and they have agency over the direction of the work as it follows them throughout the day. Within the co-authorship structure, I enjoy not knowing the totality of the work and facilitating an inward experience for others.
  For my project Buried Museum, I buried and unearthed a time capsule in my backyard containing artworks addressed to the future selves of the participants. In 2021, I attempted to return each work to its owner and documented the process in an artist book. Letter Writing Station also asked visitors to write a message to their future self, which will be returned at an upcoming date.
  My background in reiki, a healing practice involving gentle touch, led me to consider textiles in contact with the body as a healing source, too. Through touch, an exchange occurs between person and object, and a wearer’s imprint remains on the fabric.
  Dream Sheets is an embroidered dream journal on my own bed sheets, and Routine’s Dispersed Light is an outfit with a stitched map on the inner seam worn by friends and myself. The videos that are playing on cellphones document the fleeting works through Instagram stories, cat videos, and stop-motion animations. I explore if text messages are poems and if personal devices are an extension of one’s body. When exhibited, my projects become ephemeral installations comprising readily available materials composed with care and humor.