Woven Biomes
Woven Biomes is a collage of cyanotype prints created from plant, insect, and animal remnants collected along the northernmost shores of Lake Michigan. Guided by creative intuition, the process embraced the constraints of limited time and materials. During a summer camping trip, a few friends and I gathered natural elements from the wooded shore near our campsite, working within the fleeting window of time just before sunset. Using surrounding sunlight and lake water for development, the landscape itself shaped these cyanotypes. Later, I collaged the prints to emphasize Lake Michigan’s intricate biodiversity, inspired by the seasonal rhythms and interconnected web of land, water, and species unique to this freshwater ecosystem. The work also reflects the relationship between creative process and environment—both reliant on natural cycles and adapting conditions to sustain their delicate balance.
The Vanishing Route
Both observed and imagined, I analyze sea birds in migration and the enduring patterns of nature amidst a changing climate. Rising temperatures, shifting food sources, and habitat loss are disrupting long-established migratory behaviors—some species delay their journeys, adjust destinations, or abandon traditional routes altogether. Documented off the coast of Washington's North Head beach, I embrace the unpredictability of expired film and use of double exposure to capture the quiet anticipation and uncertainty surrounding their return.
Preserving Fayette
We often encounter pink markings on trees in forests and neighborhoods, signaling land surveying, maintenance, or management needs. In the historic ghost town of Fayette, Michigan, these pink ribbons mark trees in need of attention, whether for safety or ecological assessment. When visiting Fayette, I spoke with the Department of Natural Resources (DNR) and learned that these markings were conducted to guide a research study focused on conservation efforts. The addition of the pink paint trailing beneath the trees aims to evoke a sense of fragility and decay, resembling worn ribbons, roots, or even traces of blood, that serve as a metaphor for human intervention, preservation and memory held to the environment.
Graveyard of Ash
While walking along the beach, I came across a piece of firewood carved by the destructive emerald ash borer, a highly invasive beetle whose larvae feed beneath the bark of ash trees, ultimately killing them. The infestations have decimated entire populations of ash trees, disrupting their role in ecosystems and incurring high costs for removal and replanting. Marked by the larvae’s distinctive tunnels, this firewood reminded me of the frustration of its potential to spread the infestation further, as it is often transported by human activity. Yet, the scene was stark: a severed log, stripped of nutrients and brittle from fire damage, now cradled in the crevice of a massive beached tree. These fallen trees, rich with evidence of previous life, lay together like their own graveyard. While aiming to raise awareness of the emerald ash borer’s ongoing threat, I mourn, along with Mother Nature, the loss of the ash trees themselves.
Oh, Sleeping Bear
Inspired by the Native American legend of the Sleeping Bear, these images reflect a maternal sense of protection and devotion. The legend centers around a mother bear and her two cubs, forced to swim across Lake Michigan to escape a fire in the Wisconsin forests. Upon reaching the opposite shore, the mother bear looked back, hopeful for her cubs to follow, but they struggled to keep up and tragically drowned during their journey. Heartbroken, the mother bear lay down on the shore, gazing toward the lake, waiting for her cubs to return, inevitably never moving from her spot. Over time, her body turned into the towering sand hill that now forms the Sleeping Bear Dunes, while her cubs were transformed into the nearby islands known as North and South Manitou Islands. Moved by the sorrowful sacrifice, model Rachel Thomas and I interpret themes of vulnerability, patience, and searching in relation to the land.
Tideborn Objects
Monochromatic in tone and printed on recycled graph paper, this photographic study of found objects draws inspiration from Anna Atkins' 1843 book, Photographs of British Algae. Widely recognized as the first person to publish a book illustrated with photographic images, Atkins’ fusion of artistic vision and scientific inquiry pioneered innovative photographic techniques–while also establishing space for women in arts and sciences. As a contemporary homage to Atkins, I used a flatbed scanner to document these collected items–both natural and man-made–washed ashore from locations around the world. Artifacts like a doll’s ear and a ceramic fragment with the word “know” are symbols that invite ideas around perception—such as listening and learning. This arrangement balances science and sentiment filtered through my own feminine lens and interest in the cross over of curiosity, creativity, and natural discovery.
Goldenrod and Aster
Designed to showcase the symbiotic relationship between two early fall flowers, this photographic installation highlights how their pairing allows them to thrive together. Often growing side by side, this relationship is visually represented in a photograph of the flowers seemingly intertwined. The installation, placed near the bog where the photo was taken, creates a dialogue between the image and its surroundings, blurring the lines between the two. Influenced by the fifth chapter of Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer, I aimed to reflect her poetic exploration of how goldenrod and aster function as companions in nature. Their complementary contrast of purple and yellow enhances their vibrancy when placed together. Bees, more sensitive to ultraviolet radiation, perceive goldenrod and aster similarly, helping them become a collective target for pollinators. As a result, they receive more pollination than they would individually—a dynamic recognized in the installation, which also attracted curious visits from surrounding bees.
Runoff
Utilizing the alternative photographic process of salt printing, made from a simple solution of silver nitrate and saltwater, I’ve created hollow impressions of pressed wildflowers gathered from ditches in the rural area where I grew up. These farmlands are also a major source of nitrogen runoff—an issue closely tied to agricultural practices and animal waste. As rainwater carries this excess nitrogen, it creates a cycle of increased soil acidity and degraded water quality. In my printing process, I experimented with higher concentrations of silver nitrate to mirror excess nitrogen introduced in these ecosystems. The resulting salt print chemistry produced variations of muddled, rich browns, reminiscent of altered soil chemistry caused by runoff drainage. Additionally, the checkered patterns through the composition holds tense divisions between land growth and the harmful effects of imbalanced water, yet how these elements seep into one another.
The Long Melt
During a visit to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, I acquired a photo archive documenting ice formations along the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. The flea market vendor, an older gentleman and lifelong local, shared his early memories of the region’s once unrelenting winters. He reminded me that winter is not only characteristic of the region but also integral to its heritage of ice fishing, dog sledding, and snowmobiling traditions. Rising temperatures threaten this legacy, with snowfall and ice coverage projected to decline by 30-80% by the end of the century. In The Long Melt, I’ve applied layers of wax drippings to mimic melting ice patterns. Altering the physicality of the archive alludes to the impermanence of these landscapes while offering a tactile reminder of what an “unrelenting winter” represents.
Salmon Run
When visiting Leland’s historic Fishtown in Northern Michigan, I witnessed the autumn phenomenon of salmon spawning. Each year, salmon navigate upstream through the Leland River, a journey tied both to their instinctual life cycle and the region’s rich fishing heritage. In documenting the run, I sensed both the tension and harmony of these powerful fish and the man-made structures that frame their passage. Through a glimpse into weathering fish ladders, this natural migration imbeds the culture of Fishtown, raising interesting questions of coexistence.
Sea Rise, Sea Death
During a three-week summer artist residency in Downeast Maine, my mission was to observe the dynamics of Maine’s ecosystem. When I arrived after a season of consistent storms, I grew interested in understanding the cause and effect of an encroaching sea. Maine's coastline, characterized by its rocky shores, islands, and salt marshes, is especially vulnerable to the impacts of rising sea levels. Over the past century, Maine's sea levels have risen approximately 8 inches and are steadily accelerating. Warming ocean temperatures and melting glaciers have increased flooding, coastal erosion, and the loss of salt marshes, which are natural buffers against storm surges. These impacts and observations resulted in a series of polaroid emulsion lift transfers, where I also utilized the residency to learn the transfer process. Initially, the imagery served as altered representations of the impacted landscapes. Over time, the delicate emulsion began to echo the organic fragility of the marine environment itself, behaving like a deteriorating sea organism and becoming a metaphorical response to material and subject.
