My work is generally made up of objects found in my environs. I use decayed and rusted materials in combination with things found in nature, which include dead animals and their bones. While some of these elements may seem morbid, I find beauty in death and decay.

Much of what I do could be called site-specific in that I use material gathered from a particular locale and then reassemble it to make a statement about the place I am inhabiting. Over the years I have elected to leave my home in New England and spend two months at a time taking up residence in places as varied as Jacksonville, Florida and Las Vegas, Nevada. Each place comes with its own imprint of available natural materials, as well as the discards lost and left behind by people living there.

The dolls are inspired by very old dolls—really old, excavated old. Some of the dolls I love best may not have been playthings at all but offerings and altar figures. Most intriguing are the dolls that were intended as toys and were so played with, and so loved and worn that there is little left of them that resembles the original pieces.

I generally approach doll making with readily available materials which can include anything from magazine cut-outs and upholstery scraps to armadillo “scales,” bunny pellets, real cats claws and whiskers. I incorporate beading and embroidery into the design, and put wind-up music boxes inside them too so that they can sing.

I actually find that accessorizing is the most entertaining part of the process. Each doll has possessions. Toys, a handbag full of tiny objects, masks, jewelry, clothes... As a child I loved the idea of Barbie because of all the fabulous stuff she had, but I did not relate to Barbie's persona.

I still love to dress dolls, though the sad irony is that I can't dress myself up to save my life.