As an artist, I am both a collector and a researcher - a hunter/gatherer of material and a seeker of knowledge and understanding. While I have lived and worked in New York City for many years, most of my early life was spent close to nature. Growing up in a small town in northern Idaho in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, my father and mother had complementary influences on my relationsihp to nature. My father was a mining engineer and geologist. For him, nature was to be mined and the goal was one of “beneficiation,” a mining term meaning the extraction of the essence of the rock, separating the valuable mineral from the rest. My mother was a landscape painter, who found the crucial element of nature to be its beauty, and our relationship to nature to be one of connectedness. For her, “truth and beauty” lay not only in nature, but in the human heart and the human spirit. My collections began with mineral specimens from my father, and stones which my mother and I collected on the beaches near the lake where we spent our summers. I was a “material girl” and still am. I take great pleasure in collecting and sorting, making groups which differentiate the texture, color, “presence” of natural objects. While I began as a painter, the tactile aspect of making collage, assemblage and sculpture - moving, sorting, combining, physically manipulating material with my hands is not only consoling, it is a joy for me. Over the years, I have collected bits of nature and culture, which carry with them their own history: stones which have been washed by the melting snows; abandoned shelters in the form of shells; antique books which have been written, read and reread by people unknown to me; old wood with generations’ of applied paint, which are like pentimentos of others’ lives. In my current series, Matters of the Heart, I use a diversity of gathered objects, including biomedical materials which were collected as part of my research about the heart. I combine materials, weave my presence into them and in this process, something new emerges. The work becomes an interface between such apparent opposites as matter and spirit, the finite and the infinite, the past and the present, nature and the human-made, the universal and the personal.