I invite medicinal roots, plants, stones, and objects to quietly influence, support and nurture my life.  

The word humus is derived from the Latin word meaning, of the earth, close to the earth. It is also the root word for humble. In this series I share a sensibility of the quiet, simple, objects and exchanges that bring me joy. Some of the objects are found from my daily hikes in the mountains of Santa Fe, from my garden and from my travels. I have an affinity to remedies, medicinal herbs, and have spent the last seven years cultivating a garden.

I developed a relationship with the ponderosa pine trees in my garden and the offerings of the sap they drop. At times, on unusually cold evenings, that are wet, the trees will appear to be breathing from the morning sun warming their trunks, the condensation turns to steam, or as my daughter thought, smoke, which quickly grabbed all of our attention! I am attracted to the potency of herbs and how they like to be rubbed, releasing their aroma in the air, and skin.

This series started with the caldron, the vessel that I see as nourishing and at the same time going beyond our experiences, transforming our habitual tendencies. The caldron also reminds me of loss. My mother-in-law passed away in 2012 from lung cancer. She had an affinity to making clay pots, somehow the caldron breathing steam, became a portrait of her. We had a kindred bond and shared a lot of time, and trips together. In 2007, I gave birth to my daughter, her grand daughter and they were inseparable, unconditional love permeated throughout our exchanges.

Following the clay pot, the objects I found from nature connected me back to the caldron, in its way of supporting nourishment, reminding me of care, the transformation of the inseparability of form and space.