I moved back in with my family after being independent for many years. While I returned home many times, I never stayed long-term.

Currently living in my childhood home, I’ve become nostalgic, my once disillusioned attitude towards my family became compassionate. Looking through childhood photos, I had forgotten what love felt like before it started to hurt. Now older, I can see how much love is present in my family but what pains me, pains my mother, and her mother. I wonder if it pained us in a past life.

Combined with my interest in past lives and the repetitive yet unexpected nature of printmaking,
I process thoughts about the future, memories of where I’ve come from, and where I want to go