Artist Statement

I grew up in a family that showed me from a young age, art is a form of healing. Over the years I've been drawn to a myriad of materials, settling on a particular type of “bleeding” tissue paper. My grandmother, Queen Mother Frances J. Pierce was a school teacher, community leader and beautician. For over 40 years she owned a hair salon with her sister, in Cambridge, MA. Granny Franny used to tell me “we came from a family of sharecroppers that never got their fair share”. She and her sister taught me how to make quilts and a young girl and my life and career are a testimony of their legacy.

During graduate school (School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston / Tufts University) I lived with my grandmother. Her basement was filled with items she collected over the years. Floor to ceiling were piled high with everything from old Jet magazines, to confederate money, to photos of her standing proud with Dr. King, James Baldwin, or Maya Angelou.

One summer day in 2005, I discovered a beautiful accident in her basement; a stack of tissue paper was stained by water from a leaking pipe. When I pulled the rainbow stack out from between a dusty stack of books I showed my grandmother. She said “I was saving that for you”. I’m guessing this paper was tucked away from her days as an elementary teacher, which she had retired from 30 years prior. Needless to say, finding the watermarked paper changed the trajectory of my artistic career. My grandmother lived to see my first exhibition incorporating the tissue quilts at a small gallery in downtown Boston, where I had a solo exhibition. She passed away just a few years later.

Tissue paper as a medium represents discovery, transformation, and healing. It’s a way I can still connect with my grandmother and tell her story; my family history lives on through my artwork.

Since then I’ve experimented with tissue paper in a myriad of ways. I patented several creative processes including Tissue Ink Monoprints, which is a complex application of dyeing paper and blending ink onto another substrate. When the tissue paper is dried, it’s ripped and reformed into Tissue Quilts and recycled sculptures. I also create Tissue Spirals out of paper, using the smallest scraps of paper and adhesive. My most recent experimentation incorporates the use of a pottery wheel, which creates a visual vortex, resulting in Spinning Tissue Ink Monoprints, and Spinning Tissue Ink Mono/Photo Prints.

My Godmother and namesake, Maya Angelou, said it most eloquently when she described my artwork as “visualizing the truth about the vulnerability and the strength of the human being.” Both delicate and resilient, the use of tissue paper poses questions surrounding preservation, “high” and “low” art, and the attribution of value for objects. What fuels our desire to protect something vs. someone? What makes something precious, or powerful? How much pressure is needed until something is transformed? Is it destroyed? Can one find strength and power in fragility? Can you appreciate the beauty of now, even if you know it will ultimately fade away?

Although I do work with tissue paper, it is fortified, strong, resilient and permanent. It’s also non-toxic, lightweight and I reuse and recycle my source materials. In addition to showing my artwork in galleries around the world, I’ve created permanent installations, worked with organizations such as the First Citizens Bank, Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, Smithsonian Institution, US Embassies, corporate headquarters, museums, hospitals, meditation spaces, hotel/hospitality, healthcare facilities and private events. Each reaction to my installations is different, from the young to the old, they all include immense curiosity.

Tissue paper as a medium allows me to visualize the whimsical and transient nature of emotions, while searching for simplistic joy. Even after working with the same medium over many years, I am still finding new ways to play!

One unique aspect of my artwork is collaboration. When I’m creating Tissue Quilts, and Tissue Sculptures I often ask community members to join in the process. It becomes an all-inclusive artmaking session where folks from all walks of life are welcome to work together creating a tissue quilt. In the spirit of quilting bees, maximizing the minimal resources, and as my grandmother would say, “making a way out of no way”, these community workshops thrive on communication and recognizing our interconnectedness. They can be catered to a variety of ages and abilities. When I work with the community, tissue paper becomes a way for adults to remember their childhood and for children to explore joy and wonder. When we create artwork together we are joining each other at the same table, on the same level, without judgment. It’s important for me to start every workshop from a place of equality and belonging. Each participant leaves having the shared experience of watching one small piece of tissue paper grow into a quilt larger than themselves.

Creating tissue quilts has more significance for me now, than pre-pandemic. Folks are excited to work together again and find new ways to connect and heal. The energy and appreciation I receive after each workshop confirms my life’s purpose, to remind everyone I come in contact with that they have power, they are significant, and that when we work together we spread more peace and love around the world!