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the beginning

I believe that I was weaving long before I owned a loom. I have Synesthesia. The subtleties of life which pass discreetly by us—like strangers on a busy city street—are caught, held, and amplified. A musical piece becomes a light show. The simplest emotion resembles a sculpture. What is, never is, in its own pure state. Life is a world interwoven with a world. The first, shared with others—the second, undiscovered. Sometimes indescribably beautiful. Sometimes painfully indescribable.

Weaving taught me that, if we let it, art becomes the language that we speak with the parts of us too meek to raise their voices. It becomes a place to hear ourselves. Only then can we truly feel heard. Only then can we heal ourselves.

Here you'll find my journey— documented in my artwork. I hope some piece of it will speak to you. I hope that it can let a small voice in you feel heard. I hope this will become the place where our journeys coincide!

A hand holding two small, oblong weavings.
A hand beside four medium-sized weavings in bright colors.
A hand holding a hand-embroidered, beaded brooch. Several other brooches of various sizes shown in the background.

breathing in

I feel so irresistably drawn to the word “inspire”. It means to fill someone with a feeling, or the urge to create. It also means to breathe in. We do not breathe in just one place. We breathe in every place we go. We've breathed in every place we've been. We've breathed alongside the people in those places. Those places and those people fill us with a feeling. They fill us with the urge to create. Creativity is constant and living. Art is a reflection of the breaths we have taken and the breaths we have witnessed. We cannot dare to separate our art from even the smallest imprint of something or someone whose breath has shaped us.

I am originally from the Sonoran Desert. Fiber art grows there, grows old there, flows there, greets the new day, and enwraps the night. In the desert, death and life live closely in parallel. I have yet to decide which produces the most captivating artwork.

In 2017, I traveled to Iceland and Denmark. I returned with an embarassing amount of Icelandic wool,and a mind full of images—some ruggedly beautiful, others clear, playful and bright!

In June of that year, I began learning Swahili. The beautiful people who have flowed into my life since that time have shaped me. The rhythm of their speech, the fabrics they wear, and their way of being in the world trickle into my art.

These are just a few of the places where I've breathed, where I've witnessed others breathing, where I've been inspired. I'm deeply grateful for this inspiration, and excited to taste the inspiration that lies ahead!

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Pastel-colored buildings line a canal. A red and white boat sits in the water in front of them.
Many colorfully glazed tumblers are crowded together on a store shelf.
A green houseboat floats on a canal. Life preservers decorate its walls. Two smaller boats float in front of it.
Buildings in primary colors line a city street. A checkerboard pattern marks a crosswalk in the foreground.
Shea Soler stands on a path behind a large waterfall and watches it.
An aqua-colored hot spring with steam floating above the water.
A black cliff and rocks covered in moss, grass and wildflowers are lit up by the sun, which peaks through the clouds behind them.
Above a silhouette of the horizon, a purple, pink and yellow sunset fills the sky.
Desert mountains stretch into the distance, framed by bushes in the foreground.
A fuchsia cactus flower with a yellow and green center.
A bluish-green boulder with triangular texture.
A landscaped desert area with tall and short cacti, yellow wildflowers and a tree that is in bloom.
Remains of a prickly pear cactus pad. Light gray fibers are interconnected like lace.
Trees having both yellow and green leaves surround a wide stream. The sun lights up the leaves and is reflected in the water.