Utility Bird

“The female bird is designed for beauty and efficiency. She keeps herself polished to attract the male and outshine the other birds.” Made from vintage sewing patterns and undergarments — cut to fit, pinned into place, and stored when not in use — the materials carry their own instructions. They flatten the body into tidy measurements and echo the quiet labor of maintaining appearances.

The bird does not settle neatly into the drawer but slips forward, unable to remain contained. I made this piece while thinking about the expectation of appearance placed on women — the idea that one should look composed and agreeable while carrying out hard, often unrewarded work. The drawer suggests order; the body resists it. The notion that one must be both decorative and endlessly capable is, in the end, for the birds.

Domestic Drawer Interrupted comes from memories of my mother’s mid-century kitchen, where drawers were carefully named by use. Organizing them helped her stay ordered and showed others that she ran a good household, even when the truth may have been quite different. This work was made in response to a nineteenth-century silver serving dish, a container associated with family respectability. The dish was meant for display. The drawer holds what is private and practical. Through layered surfaces and open space, the drawer carries family memory as something lived, imperfect, and still contained.

Maintenance Required?

The crown is an emblem of physical beauty—of being noticed, desired, and valued. When that attention fades, people are often set aside, even as their inner selves remain intact. This work reflects on how fiercely we try to remain relevant by maintaining, repairing, and managing surfaces: treatments, procedures, and rituals of upkeep meant to preserve worth. Layered materials reference patterns of fitting, covering, and quiet labor rather than adornment. What we are taught to prize—youth, appearance, presentation—is fragile and temporary. The ongoing work of surface maintenance becomes its own form of still life, standing in for what is lost, retained, or quietly endured.

Still Rising

This sculptural bird is formed from a vintage dress and undergarments, with strips of pattern paper bearing fragments of language embedded within the body. The wings extend outward, suggesting lift, while the structure remains visibly attached to ordinary supports.

The work reflects on familial and cultural inheritances — the assumptions and habits absorbed without much question and carried forward, often beneath awareness. The bird does not think to cast these aside, making do with what it carries, moving as best it can within structures that shaped it.

There is a quiet absurdity in the image: a bird poised for flight while still tethered to the familiar. Like instinctive patterns that guide migration or daily routines, these inherited ways continue whether examined or not — simply part of how one proceeds.

Still Rising considers what has been given, and how movement — or stillness — unfolds within those patterns.