A lot of my work focuses on the lifespan of flowers. I call my cotton pieces “Needle Roses” because I know the crop’s history, how difficult it is to harvest by hand, along with a nod to its beautiful purple and pink blossoms that precede the pods of fluffy fiber. Although I grew up in a Southern town, it was surrounded by tobacco fields. I did not see a cotton field until after I'd left for college. It’s surprising to see an entirely white field in a countryside that never gets snow. The way it transforms the landscape is practically alien. When I showed my first cotton painting, I saw someone begin to tear up while looking at it. The tall blonde lady explained that her grandmother had died while picking cotton. I listened as she described what life was like for her family and how special her grandmother was to her and how she still feels the loss. Looking at my painting brought that all back to her. She hugged me and left. I felt like I had been turned upside down. I
American Artist in the South