My 9-year-old curiosity.

A sunny October New England morning – the night’s frost now melting, chiseling at the connection between brilliant red-yellow-orange leaf stems and branches, releasing a drifting rain of maple leaves to the brightening forest floor. I joined this party of color gathering around the base a knarled old maple tree – covering a thick moss-covered boulder that tree-roots had grown around. This was the birthplace of my fascination with layers.

Life is layers.

Layers of leaves become soil to grow moss and more trees. My 9-year-old’s experience gave me an appreciation for layers in nature. When I inherited my grandmother’s intricately painted Singer Sewing machine, I began to layer fabric in quilts. Upholstery followed naturally with its textile layers on a frame.

The human element.

I’m amazed at the personal stories that emerge around the work we do with our hands.


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