Portfolio > Before

From a larger series of drawings inspired by the 1944 Geological investigation of the alluvial valley of the lower Mississippi River by the U.S. Department of the Army, Mississippi River Commission.
mixed
8"x8"x3"
2012
From a series of drawings inspired by the 1944 Geological investigation of the alluvial valley of the lower Mississippi River by the U.S. Department of the Army, Mississippi River Commission
mixed
8"x8"x3"
2012
From a series of drawings inspired by the 1944 Geological investigation of the alluvial valley of the lower Mississippi River by the U.S. Department of the Army, Mississippi River Commission
mixed
8"x8"x3"
2012
Untitled #658
Mixed
26" x 40"
2011
Untitled #569
Mixed
26" x 40"
2011
Untitled #660
Mixed
26" x 40"
2011
Seaweed
Mixed
12" x 12"
2009
Seaweed Two
Mixed
12" x 12"
2009
Seaweed Three
Mixed
12" x 12"
2009
Seaweed Four
Mixed
12" x 12"
2009
Drop V1.0
Mixed
30" x 22"
2010
Blast Off
Mixed
12" x 12"
2010
NOLA Revisited V1
Mixed
12" x 12"
2010
Lauren's Hand V.7
Mixed
24" x 24"
2007
Lauren's Hand V.8
Mixed
24" x 24"
2007
Lauren's Hand V.9
Mixed
24" x 24"
2007
Switch On Summer, 1976
Mixed
24" x 24"
2007
PostK1a 2006
Mixed
6 x 6
2006

Before: Play, Process, and Fragments

This body of work belongs to a different era—one of layers, scattered circles, and playful motion. It was a time of experimenting with form, tracing connections between past and present, precision and imperfection. The drawings, the digital remnants, the mapped-out compositions—each was a way of processing, of translating memory into mark-making.

There are echoes of DNA here—not in strands, but in pixels and ink. The blown-up dots-per-inch behave like genetic code—patterns letting me see my family again, somehow.

There are the representations of the tools of my mother’s business—space planning stencils, measured arcs, and careful curves—repurposed for something far less rigid, intuitive, and making room for accidents.

And then, there is the joy. A period when my son was growing up, when my work held a looseness, a curiosity, a kind of whimsy. But beneath that joy, there were ghosts. Many of these images were made in the wake of Katrina. New Orleans, my hometown, with its waterlines and its slow unraveling, became a reflection of something more personal. I found myself returning to my sister’s death from decades prior. In these images I was sifting through memories, piecing together fragments of a past that refused to stay fixed and was now underwater.

These pieces were about process—about feeling my way through image-making and about pulling from the physical and digital worlds to create something that felt real.

A past self, a different rhythm— but still connected to the now.