The linens my grandmother made were assembled into a trousseau for her daughter.  When my mother immigrated to the US, her mother "disowned" her by promising she would never receive her trousseau.  This was all my grandmother had to hold against her.  I am fascinated by the stories we tell ourselves and which become the fabric of our family history.  These paintings use those very linen artifacts to reveal a little about the family landscape.

Immigrant Dreams
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