Always be a Work-In-Progress
I am going to take a quick pause for some life updates that I hadn’t really expressed in the last couple of years, especially this past one… 2024- 2026 has been such a metamorphic time in my life—
2024
Went back to school— spent the year going to different museums
Curated an exhibition for WSW
Awarded the Helene Zucker Seeman Fellowship from NCECA (for exhibition)
Medical Issue— Wrist Injuries
2025
Medical Issue— Eye surgery
“You Deserve Your Flowers” exhibition opening
Medical Issue— Eye surgery (again)
2026
Eye Infections ( a series)
Graduated in May
Struck by Lightning on the 4th of July
Research + More Art Making<3
I’ve been busy, to say the least~
In January of 2024, I decided to go back to school for an MA in Museum Studies, and despite it feeling so foreign to me at first, I am eternally grateful for the experience. I focused mainly on curatorial and museum education practices with the hope and the goal of being able to strengthen my resolve for the work I wanted to make and the teacher/artist I wanted to be. My anxiety about going to school for something other than an MFA was so scary at first. In my head, I worried that it would mean that I “gave up” my career to switch into a new one, as if I failed in the field I was in. Obviously, that is absolutely false!
I hadn’t failed. No, instead I had expanded to learn things I otherwise would never have learned or considered. Art school taught me so much about how to make work, how to investigate the components, the methods, and techniques it took to create something amazing! But my MA in Museum Studies gave me language and insight into the ways artists’ work is represented and positioned for the world, and all the change it brings. Because honestly, as artists, why do we make work? It’s different for everyone, but through my MA, I learned why I make work: its goal, its purpose, its impact, its core reasoning.
As a young artist, there were truths I wanted to convey through my work, but I was so measured and afraid that my perspective was going to go either unheard or be chastised. So I made palatable work— work that was so elusive that no one would be suspicious of me, no one could dismiss me, no one could know the real me. I’ll eventually fill in the middle between then and now, but at the time I was so sure that something had to change. That change really started with my residency at Watershed Center for the Ceramic Arts. That’s where I met all my TCN friends, and if you’re curious how it went, you can read the NCECA journal article we put together for our panel presentation. <3
A few years later, I was asked by WSW, the institution I started my career with, to curate a ceramic exhibition. WSW had laid the groundwork for me as an intern, and I was excited to bridge the gap between TCN and WSW. I came to understand how the relationships we have with ourselves and each other are meant to awaken us to something greater. This opportunity really solidified why Museum Studies became what I invested in— I wanted to represent people well, and I wanted to platform the works that were missing from my textbooks. I realized I owed it to myself to be brave and do something completely new in the hopes that I could contribute to the diversity I needed to see as a young artist— and now curator.
I’ll skip forward through some of the boring stuff, but as you can see, life was changing around me. It was expanding and confronting me; it was a fire that asked me to release my doubts and trust in a version that is authentically me. I could only transform when life put me through trials and tests— as hard as it was at times, I am so grateful for all that I learned. Not only did I learn things academically, but I learned about my perception, my identity, my self-imposed roles, and where I had chosen safety over authenticity. I finally felt articulate after the first year about how I would use my degree and strengthen my resolve for diversity in the arts, but when one lesson ends, another begins—
I grew up having T1D, but that following year, I had several medical issues with my wrists and then more seriously one of my eyes. This lesson was the most uncomfortable because I thought I had banished all my earlier anxieties with the growth from school. Instead, I needed to learn how to quell a new beast. I needed to recognize the value I have inside a body that I’ve ignored for years. I felt like I was losing access to the world I fought so hard to be a part of. Like my artistry and craft were abandoning me; now I see how silly that sounds. This year of illness, I learned to trust others and remember that my worth is not based on my productivity but on just being authentically me—I needed to honor my truth and remember that I’m deserving of the same kind of support I was used to giving. I was asked to care for this body and love it despite and because of all its challenges.
During grad school, I took a course on disability and diversity—there, I learned how systems of oppression operate and how ableism shaped my self-image for years. I used to identify with such cruel ideas about myself. Blaming the body that should be cared for, honored, and cherished was literally destroying me. I know now that I am meant to be seen for all of me, not just the parts that have fit perfectly in the past. I learned to go beyond acceptance and fully immerse myself in ways I could nourish and care for my body. I used to be so disconnected because I felt like I didn’t know who I was. In reality, I was convinced I needed to quantify being seen. But how could I represent myself when I was the biggest offender of dismissing myself? I think I’m still on that journey, but I know that who I wanted to be couldn’t thrive while I denied who I was for other people’s comfort.
Once I realized that, next came lightning— I’m sure you’ve been curious lol— I got side-splashed, so I didn’t get the worst of it. It manifested less than a foot away from me, but the charge grounded in me via my Dexcom because I was closest to it (I’m totally okay!!). I don’t even think it hitting me would’ve been scary for at least a couple of weeks. I just felt like I was allowed to move forward finally. The event was dramatic and extraordinarily spiritual for me, but that spirituality has brought me back to my research and artwork, the messages that I couldn’t originally articulate without these lessons happening to me. These trials weren’t meant as punishment but as a gift for what I asked for— a path to find the true me. I am just so grateful to always be a work-in-progress.
May your growth become the fuel for your art and bring about the words and the world you needed to see~