This body of work examines hand making as a form of labor, memory, and preservation. Rooted in histories of domestic labor and broom-making, I am interested in the embodied knowledge carried through handmade objects, knowledge learned through repetition, held within the body, and passed from one person to another.

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Using broomcorn, linen, wood, salvaged materials, and hand-binding traditions, I make sculptural objects that remain connected to the tools they come from while becoming increasingly unable to perform the tasks they were made for. Familiar forms like baskets and brooms are bound, stretched, fragmented, repeated, and made strange. Wrapping, stitching, pulling, and binding remain visible, allowing the labor and time of making to become part of the object itself.

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Repetition is central to this work because repetition is how craft knowledge survives. Hands learn through doing: how much tension a material can hold, where it will bend, when to pull tighter, and when to stop. Much of this knowledge was never written down. It existed through demonstration, observation, practice, and the assumption that another pair of hands would continue where the last left off.

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But what happens when that chain is interrupted?

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The histories of handcraft are inseparable from histories of domestic and caregiving labor... the work that has been feminized, undervalued, and largely unrecorded. As handmade objects are replaced by industry and mass production, we lose more than the objects themselves. We risk losing the physical knowledge, gestures, histories, and people held within their making.

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I return to these processes not out of nostalgia, but as a way of keeping that knowledge in motion. By removing function from these familiar forms, the objects become less about the task they once performed and more about what remains: evidence of labor, movements repeated, materials understood, and knowledge practiced.

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A craft survives because someone continues to make it.