Salt & Wool: Threads of Mourning
Mixed Media Collage on Linen
24 x 24 inches (driftwood extends ~3.5” beyond the top right and ~6.5” beyond the bottom left)
$576
Created in the weeks following my 100 year old grandmother’s passing, Salt & Wool: Threads of Mourning weaves together my grounded grief, it’s rooted in memory, and the quiet generosity of the natural world.
A soft wool fleece — a gift from my cousin at her funeral — became the starting point, a symbol of family, farming, warmth, lineage, and love held in the fibers.
Soon after, I found myself walking the beach on Ocracoke Island at dawn, gathering what the sea had surrendered: driftwood, rope, fragments of sandbags, and shells. Each morning the ocean offered herself to me through its abundance, seemingly acts of grace amidst loss.
The natural linen, left partially exposed with a clear gesso, holds these found materials — the wool for connection, the driftwood for resilience, and the rope representing boundary and protection. Together, they form a quiet meditation on transformation: how mourning can be both unraveling and reweaving, how beauty and memory remain long after the tide has pulled away.
*This piece is almost impossible to mock up given that the fabric and the wood extends over the canvas. Mockups do not show the piece in it’s entirety.
Salt & Wool: Threads of Mourning
Mixed Media Collage on Linen
24 x 24 inches (driftwood extends ~3.5” beyond the top right and ~6.5” beyond the bottom left)
$576
Created in the weeks following my 100 year old grandmother’s passing, Salt & Wool: Threads of Mourning weaves together my grounded grief, it’s rooted in memory, and the quiet generosity of the natural world.
A soft wool fleece — a gift from my cousin at her funeral — became the starting point, a symbol of family, farming, warmth, lineage, and love held in the fibers.
Soon after, I found myself walking the beach on Ocracoke Island at dawn, gathering what the sea had surrendered: driftwood, rope, fragments of sandbags, and shells. Each morning the ocean offered herself to me through its abundance, seemingly acts of grace amidst loss.
The natural linen, left partially exposed with a clear gesso, holds these found materials — the wool for connection, the driftwood for resilience, and the rope representing boundary and protection. Together, they form a quiet meditation on transformation: how mourning can be both unraveling and reweaving, how beauty and memory remain long after the tide has pulled away.
*This piece is almost impossible to mock up given that the fabric and the wood extends over the canvas. Mockups do not show the piece in it’s entirety.
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