I moved to Los Angeles from Illinois in 2006. In this new place, I found myself surrounded by hills—some quite steep—that are covered with buildings and vegetation. This was a shock to my eyes after three years living in the middle of the prairie, and I became fascinated by the look of these hillsides. I imagined them to be like giant sleepers, kept warm by coverings resembling my grandmother’s crocheted afghan blankets: brightly colored squares of brave little houses stitched together by creeping green vines and fringed with swaying palm trees.

I began to reinvestigate my painting and drawing practices, influenced both by California’s dramatic landscape and my long-term interests in memory, textiles, domestic life, figuration, and the physical properties of paint. The resulting works on paper are a combination of old and new interests, layering one over the other. I use paints to convert my sculptures into 2D images, blending photo-booth portraits of unknown teenagers with multi-hued hillsides, hiding life. Abstract passages connect one to another like graffiti murals or spreading kudzu vines. These drawings represent where I have been and where I might yet go, although quilting remains the metaphor for what I do.