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I came to the asterisk by accident. I was making simple marks with brush and ink and found myself drawn to its shape, partly because it reminded me of a snowflake and partly because I liked making it. Each one was unique, and slowly covering sheets of paper with them became a kind of meditation.
The word asterisk comes from the Greek asteriskos, meaning “little star.” The mark was first used around 200 BCE by Greek scholars while editing Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. The asterisk asks us to look again. It tells us there is something more to see, more to learn.
Little Star is my own second look. I am returning to photographs and prints from projects I made over the past few decades and combining them with work I am making today. I paint on them, cut them apart, sew them back together and let intuition guide the construction of each piece. Things I once considered finished have become starting points again.
These works ask to be seen slowly. What appears to be a solid black field from a distance reveals itself up close as hundreds of small stars. Lines, images, and threads connect across seams in ways that might not be obvious at first. Sometimes looking again is all it takes to see something in a new way.
Exhibition opening at Aspen Collective Gallery on 09/04/26
