Collection: Handmades from the Workshop

Handwork keeps me sane.

There is a quiet that arrives when the hands remember what they are for — when an artistic choice meets a stitch that has already been practiced for years, and years before that.

My mother works in cloth as a quilter. Her mother worked in couture. The same motions travel: needle, hook, bead, seam. A kind of prayer you can wear.

This collection is for what leaves the workbench that way. First to the table: aprons my mother sewed, and gift sets holding a taste of the crochet I have been unwinding my evenings with, plus beaded pieces — some made new, a few old favorites that once carried their magic out on auditions and city nights.

Whatever three generations of women make here comes next — my mother, my daughters, and I — in whatever medium the work asks for.

Watching small hands find their rhythm is part of the making. The collection stays open so those hands have a shelf when they are ready.