I started off in the early 1990's using, almost exclusively, reclaimed fabrics; a lot of vintage draperies and contemporary textiles such as silk and linen. It is important to me to use only natural fabrics. The style I chose to work with was the basic "Chanel" cut jacket; very boxy, the perfect "garment as a canvas" design. My goal is to try to work at least five different fabrics into the garment; every year I have developed a new approach to embellishment techniques and combining these techniques keeps my work fresh and exciting for me. Appliqué, piecing, quilting, embroidery, piping, pintucks, overlays, runching, plackets, beading, and anything else that I can think of, are all used in varieties of combinations.

There is something so satisfying in cutting things up and putting them together a different way; the art of quilting taken to new heights. Colour is an important component in my designs, while most jackets keep to a range of complimentary tones, once in a while I break loose and use only colours that aren't supposed to work together. But they do.

White makes me nervous. Some years ago, realizing that all the white fabrics I was getting were piling up in a corner untouched, I decided that the only solution was to learn how to fabric paint. What an education, I had no idea I was choosing the most difficult medium there is! First it was only silks; especially using the French serti technique. That kept me off the streets and in the studio! Now, it is anything I can get my hands on: silks, linens, cottons, rayons, I even gave wool a whirl. Batik, shibori, watercolour, salts, sugars, acid dyes, fibre reactive dyes, brushes, brayers, spray bottles, stamps, stencils, woodblocks, linoetching, just name it. So many possibilities and so little time!

My silk-painted jackets are all allegorical: a glimpse at how the ordinary, everyday world is transformed by our spiritual essence. There are lots of dancing women and napping cats, and lots of dancing cats and napping women. There are fish and birds and gardens and angels. They all tell a story about our journey.

On cold January days in my studio, sometimes I stop and wonder why I am pursuing this bizarre fantasy of fabric. Does this really matter? Why can't we all dress in polar fleece jogging suits and get it over with? But the comment book from the shop brings me back to the real world of art and why it is.

Why wearable art? Because we can buy a wonderful painting and hang it on the wall, and eventually, no matter how brilliant, it eventually becomes invisible and only a few people will ever interact with it. A piece of wearable art becomes alive every time it is worn; it begs for reaction from those around it; the wearer cannot be ignored. It rounds out the individual and ignites self esteem. It goes past being three-dimensional.

It is most definitely not a uniform, you cannot be invisible.

Often I hear neophytes to my work ask "But where will I wear it?"
My answer: "to the grocery store".

When did it become necessary to dress down for everything? Now, instead of worrying about looking good enough, we worry about looking too good! Clothing shouldn't be disposable, it should be something that can be worn for years, dressed up or worn casually.