Move to Brevard

My most recent collaboration has been with my husband on our move to Brevard, NC! After 35 plus years in Columbia, SC, after raising four sons, after two careers, after countless more life events and during one pandemic we decided to change our address to a place that was once our vacation destination more times than not. Our new home perches near the top of a small mountain .with beautiful views and a backyard forest. My new studio has two parts - an inside space for hand building and an outside shed for firing and wheel throwing. The best part is my relationship with Mud Dabbers Pottery where my new work is displayed and sold! I am slowly settling in and like a transplanted tree (with a little love and attention) my roots are gaining hold.

Wild Acres Residency

I had the pleasure of working on a very special project with my friend Jeannie Lindler in NC last summer. This collaborative effort has been two years in the making and is not over yet . One of our police officers, Greg Alia, was killed in the line of duty and this sculpture memorializes him. We included references to our community including our neighborhoods, city center, parks and green ways and his cartoon drawings. More to come once it is complete.

Fort Jackson Victory Starts Here

This installation has been the biggest yet! Two three-hundred pound mosaics hoisted onto a brick wall after months of preparation. This was truly a collaborative effort and I have many people to thank. My sister Martha and my friend Samantha spent many weekends with me as my “assistants” doing anything and everything. Henry Howe at Fort Jackson was my go to for all questions and Rod Dalton was the one who instigated this whole commission. Could not have done it without my installation specialist Arthur and his spectacular team! Thank you!!

St. Peter's School and the Holy Spirit Mosaic

During the Spring of 2016 I spent about five weeks working on this mosaic with the school children of St. Peter's School in Columbia, SC.

My dear friend is the principal and she invited me to create this mosaic inspired by the school's new logo. Every student from 4-K to 6th grade added pieces over a period of two class visits each and with the help of their art teacher Molly we managed to guide these little fingers in an inspiring direction.

Mosaic Workshops

"We are mosaics. Pieces of light, love, history, stars....Glued together with magic and music and words," — Anita Krizzman

This quote is a favorite and it is used on my mosaic workshop flyers. Several times a year I will conduct weekend workshops for groups ranging in size from 8-20 depending on our space and needs. Sometimes I will collaborate with a therapist and other times with a school or friend group. Regardless of the group or purpose we come together to share in a very ancient need to create and to put things together.

Personally, I am always in awe of seeing all of these broken fragments before me and then watching them, through my hands and heart, come together into something beautiful and whole. When I do a workshop, the process is repeated through the hands of all the participants and it is a great thing to see. We all start out with all the same materials, yet every mosaic ends up very different since we bring our differences to the table yet in a spirit of community. Mirrors are an integral part of the process for several reasons — mirrors reflect the truth, mirrors reflect light — something our bodies need and most importantly, they reflect the maker in our brokenness and beauty.

Please contact me if you are interested in setting up a workshop or joining an existing one.

Our Lady of Joyful Hope

The school where I teach made a very big move in the fall of 2015. The new campus is beautiful and at the center is our chapel — Our Lady of Joyful Hope. I was asked about a year before our move to design a mosaic that would flank the entrance and be the centerpiece to our rotunda, the very first space you enter when visiting Cardinal Newman School. After much planning, my art club and I created the mosaic in sections at the old school and when we were able, mounted it in the new space. With lots of anxiety, sweat and a few tears we did it and it is now the first thing visitors see when they enter the new school.

Cardinals On the Move

One of our first big collaborative efforts at Cardinal Newman School was the wall of athletes we created in our old school entitled "Cardinals on the Move." Over 70% of our student body plays a sport so using this theme seemed appropriate plus we had this very long hallway adjacent to the gym to fill. Every sport we played was represented and we even used some of our own athletes as models. When the school moved in 2015, we found a new home for them on the gymnasium wing. They look great on the crisp white walls.

To Wander That Way

Ideas often incubate for a generous amount of time for me before they become tangible. The Mepkin Abbey mosaic butterfly is no different. Ever since my sister passed away twenty years ago, the butterfly was a symbol of her presence. We would see her at family picnics, in our backyard, at weddings, at the cemetery. I know we are not alone in placing meaning on this tiny lovely insect in a place where our loved ones should have been. As a mosaic artist I have always had in the back of my mind the idea of creating a mosaic butterfly in some permanent setting to honor that memory.

In addition to being a mosaic and ceramic artist, I also teach and am the Fine Art Department Head at Cardinal Newman School. My job is pretty fantastic. I work with some wonderfully dedicated people and the students are incredibly talented and well mannered, usually. We do have our days, though, and after a particularly eventful and stress-filled week, with elbows on the desk and head cradled in my hands, I decided this was the summer I would make a retreat at Mepkin Abbey.

Several months before during the seasons of Thanksgiving and Christmas, my mother-in-law died unexpectedly and 6 weeks after that my mother passed away. The gravity of these changes was heavy. I knew I wanted to mark their passing somehow with an art piece as they had always been very supportive of my art making. A month before my mother passed, she and I drove out to Mepkin from Charleston for the 2016 Crèche Festival. This year I had three pieces on display and she marveled at each one. (No matter how good or bad your work might be you know your mother is going to love it!) That was our last outing together. She fell on Thanksgiving Day and at 96 her little body could not recover. On December 31, 2016 she passed away.

Retreat, Mosaic Butterfly, Artist Residency all took shape in the months after that – with the catalyst being that particularly exhausting week at school. I knew Mepkin Abbey would be the place for it, somewhere near the columbarium. Thankfully, I was able to gain permission from the Abbey through Father Guerric whose trust in me fueled my desire to make something beautiful and appropriate for the setting. In many cultures the butterfly is seen as a personification of the soul. In Irish lore, a butterfly seen at a cemetery means a soul is at peace. Additionally, the transformative nature of this creature reminds us of our own metamorphosis from child to adult and body to spirit in the hands of God. It is my hope that the butterfly sculpture brings a spark of joy and sense of calm to those that come to Mepkin Abbey to mourn, to recharge, to be transformed or to just rest. It can hold deep meaning or not. Its job will be to provide a respite even if for a moment to those who wander that way.

Journey of Faith | Haiti 2016

This article was originally published in the Winter 2016 issue of Cardinal Matters: A Publication for Alumni, Parents & Friends of Cardinal Newman School in Columbia, SC.

“The drive from the airport was sobering — a mayhem of cars and people; horns blaring; young boys beating on the van glass, yelling, trying to sell us food and water; potholes; deep ruts; goats rummaging through heaps of trash and ruble. And I am told this is an improvement. What hope do we have of making a difference in just ten days?”

This was my first journal entry on day one of our mission trip to Haiti. We departed July fifth, the day after our country celebrated how blessed we are. We flew into a country also blessed with hope, pride, resourcefulness, and ingenuity but so lacking in the other components that make our system work and theirs not: leadership, law and order, a working infrastructure, economy, and a health care system. We have the luxury in the United States of complaining about these things for not working well enough, but in Haiti they just don’t work at all. As a result, the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere rests two hours by plane south of the richest.

“This bougainvillea-draped space is an oasis in a rumbled-up world. No rest for the weary; sleep was intermittent; roosters and barking dogs were our companions throughout the hot, still night. Thank God for the fan — until the generator died. A cold shower was welcomed. Only Mr. Brown, tall walls and razor wire keep us safe. (We are told one does not sleep in Haiti as much as rest.) Our delightful host, Phil, and the cooks are amazing. “

I am describing My Fathers Guest House, run by the organization Haiti Under God (HUG), our home base in Port-Au-Prince, where twelve of us from Columbia, ate, prayed, played, and “rested” for ten days. I was invited by one of the board members to join this trip as a sort of “artist-in-residence.” I planned and implemented several mosaic art projects with 18 young girls who lived in an orphanage supported by HUG. Our goal was not only to teach them a new skill, but also to bring them hope and beauty in a sometimes weary and ugly world. Accompanied by our Haitian hosts, Pastor Maxeau, Ginnette, (the girls house mother) and Surge (more like “Surge!” because he always greeted us with his joyful booming baritone and a hug) — we traveled to Valley of Hope and Cha-Cha Mountain where we dispersed supplies, conducted vacation bible schools for the children and the mosaic art projects. We prayed, sang, and shared our gifts, both material and intangible, and were enveloped by a joy and love that was pure and uninhibited.

“The sun was blazing hot so we decided to postpone grouting until the afternoon. We walked down to the girls’ home to inspect the garden the men were building. The girls live in a safe, clean home but it is sparsely furnished. One light bulb hanging from the ceiling illuminates their living space. The girls store their belongings in boxes under their beds. The laundry room consists of a rain barrel, several buckets and two large, wide-rimmed bowls all on the back stoop. Their clothes hang amidst the palm trees, dappled sun, blowing like flags in a balmy breeze. This is a painting.”

The artist and art teacher in me emerged often. Haiti is rich with material to paint, to compose, to capture. It is rich with ironies — beauty next to filth; deprivation next to ingenuity; and lawlessness next to hope and joy. And all we had to do to see all of this was to pivot our heads a degree or two. Within that context, my artist brain was teaming with ideas. As an art teacher, I couldn’t help but realize the skills I was able to bring to the Haitian girls and women with whom I worked was a direct result of the skills I have learned here at Cardinal Newman. I would never have been able to organize 18 girls whose language I do not speak to create these beautiful mosaics if I had not had that experience here. I would not have had the confidence to lead a group of grown women in mosaic making had I not had that experience here with the adult workshops I have done with our teachers and parents. I was but a conduit through which the myriad lessons I have learned through my students and faculty flowed to the Haitian people. And that channel flows both ways. I have brought back patience, appreciation, new organizational skills, and a joy for art, knowing that it is a true universal language.

“When God’s heart becomes your heart, there is no limit to what God can do through you. If you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness…” Isaiah 58:10.

This was on a bookmark we were given at the beginning of our trip, and I read it every night before bed. It reminded me that this was a group effort — that God was working through not only the people on the trip and our Haitian brothers and sisters, but also through the people we left at home who contributed in so many ways to the success of this trip. I’m thinking of the CN faculty who contributed shoes and diapers; I’m thinking of our families who kept things running while we were gone; I’m thinking of all the many people who gave medical supplies, soccer balls, art supplies, dolls, clothing, and money who never got to see, like I did, the payoff.

“We lift off and suddenly our world returns — the comfortable temperature, the cart filled with food and beverages, smiling attendants, and a clean, tidy space. The layover in Miami, the dining possibilities, the chilled wine accompany thoughts of our departure and what we have left behind. I know Haiti has changed us, but have we changed Haiti?”

This was a ten-day mission trip, and one wonders what good is just ten days? Did we satisfy the desires of the afflicted? Did our light rise in the darkness? I hope so – for ten days, at least — and I like to think that every time the girls we left in Haiti see their handiwork, they think of the beauty that came from their hands and the possibilities that holds. Our students at Cardinal Newman walk past a mosaic every day that many of them helped create. Every day, residents and visitors who pass by Our Fathers Guest House in Haiti get to see one made from the exact same materials sprung from the same experiences and skills passed from one to the next, a connection of which we should be proud. I know we will return and continue to make relationships with our small group near Port-Au-Prince. I will gain new experiences as a teacher, artist, and parent and take those with me. The channel of ideas will continue to flow both ways. Surely, that will make a difference.

Artist-in-Residency Program Benefits Teacher and Her Students

This article was originally published in the Fall 2015 issue of Cardinal Matters: A Publication for Alumni, Parents & Friends of Cardinal Newman School in Columbia, SC.

When I was a 16 year-old high school girl, I had the opportunity to travel across the entire United States with 200 other teens in what was a 6-week camping adventure. Fast forward 37 years and my dream of doing the trip again became a reality. Launching July 27th, my best friend from high school and I traveled by car to Breckenridge, Colorado, for a three week artist-in-residency at the Tin Shop—one of six historic buildings making up the campus of the Arts District in this charming Rocky Mountain town. With my Subaru packed inside and out with luggage and supplies, Julianne and I set off on a southern route traversing Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, Oklahoma, a sliver of Texas and New Mexico to land in Colorado three days later. We had several goals for the trip out west: to stop and take in a hike every day; to stay in good humor especially after 10-12 hours of driving; to help each other with driving and navigating and to begin each day with a travel prayer. We took turns filling up, keeping an eye on the dashboard, and always splitting the cost of meals and rooms in half.

A favorite stopping point was Capulin Volcano National Monument in New Mexico. Not only was this at the end of day three and a very long day of driving, but it was the beginning of what was to be some of the most beautiful scenery we experienced on the trip. Nearly 60,000 years ago this volcano erupted into four lava flows leaving an almost perfect circular rim. The mile loop around the rim was just the right length for stretching weary legs and the vistas of the Rockies in the distance enticed us to get back in the car and drive for two more hours to our destination of Pueblo, Colorado, for the evening. The next morning we only had a two-hour drive to Breckenridge, so we were able to take our time and stop along the way. One of those stops was in Canon City and the Winery at Holy Cross Abbey. Once a Benedictine Monastery and boys school, the space is now an event center and winery. We missed the wine because we found it closed that day, but we did take in a stroll and found the old sanctuary that once upon a time was a beautiful space.

We landed in Breckenridge mid-day on the fourth day and I set about creating my home away from home in the Tin Shop at 9600’ above sea level. I had a gallery and workshop on the bottom floor and a small apartment upstairs. My responsibilities were to have the shop open for visitors at least four days a week (Thursday–Sunday) for four hours a day. I was to engage the public and educate them on my work encouraging questions and dialogue about what I do. I also gave a workshop on the art of mosaic making. In turn, I had a free place to live and work for three weeks and I had the opportunity to make some sales. I had lengthy conversations with other artists, participated in a printmaking workshop, went to many performing and visual art events and took part in “open studio” in the ceramics shop. I’d call the experience an “Art Spa”—uninterrupted time to make art, experience art and engage in the dialogue of creating.

Along the way, I met many interesting people including other teachers who shared their stories and experiences. I have brought back with me not only their thoughtful insights but my own to share with our Cardinal Newman community. I’ll never forget the man who often occupied the studio across the street from me. He suffered a traumatic brain injury as a teenager, was in a coma for 3 months, and had to relearn all basic functions. Art was his salvation; his therapy; his connection with others. He worked with pure joy. I’ll share his story with my students and that of another gentleman—an almost Olympic athlete (he was training for the Olympic trials in track and field when he was hit by a car). He too had to relearn everything and overcome huge obstacles. He became a special education teacher and also credits art as well as yoga for engaging him in life again. We talked extensively about teaching the child with special needs. He counseled me to find the one thing my students can do really well, focus on that while ignoring other behaviors that might be distracting. He also suggested deep breathing techniques that can calm a restless student. I came away with a different perspective and calmer attitude about what my priorities will be in the classroom. I want my room to be a joyful place where students can leave the stresses of life outside; where they can learn about themselves and a new medium; where they can learn how to access their creativity and use it therapeutically. We never know when that skill will come in handy.

On my down time, I hiked, biked, photographed wild flowers, went horseback riding, shopped and ate—pretty much in that order. A favorite activity in Colorado is to hike Fourteeners. These are peaks above 14,000’ high. This year we hiked Cameron and Lincoln. These hikes are always highlights for me as they are a challenge requiring good lungs and stamina. The vistas are breathtaking in more than one way—the views are gorgeous but you can’t stay up there very long because of the thin air—just enough time for a few photos, a good sip of water then back down.

The weeks went by too fast and throughout my stay I had an almost constant stream of visitors. We arrived with friends from Atlanta already in town. After Julianne left, my husband and two of our four sons arrived. I had about 5 days on my own, then three sisters arrived; two of whom accompanied me home. We took a more Northern route home: Colorado, Kansas (and more Kansas and then more Kansas), Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky, Tennessee, North Carolina then our blessed South Carolina. The trip back entailed a little more antique shopping and less hiking due to the wishes of my navigators. Seeing the changing landscapes and weather patterns remained interesting and entertaining and the lure of home and a good book on tape kept us trucking. Four weeks after I departed, we drove back into town to a much warmer climate and a lot more oxygen. This was quite the experience and I’m already thinking about my next residency in a couple of years - perhaps in Glacier National Park, Montana. However, flying might be my preferred mode of transportation.