Some of my fondest memories are from summers spent at my Grandma Buddy’s house. My grandparents’ rural North Idaho home and the land surrounding it was my personal sanctuary. Riding up the steep rugged driveway with the three-story log house coming into view, the anticipation of their happy embrace and excitement for the days to be spent there fueled me with love and warmth. Some of the most vivid childhood memories I have come from our annual huckleberry picking trips: nothing but mountain roads, berry buckets, and what felt to be an endless amount of time to explore and collect from nature.
There is a strong parallel between the craft of cooking and the craft of making, and through these processes, I have found a place for reflection and healing. The objects I have created are nostalgic. They focus on the importance of food as ritual and food as shared experience. Through these objects, I am sharing my family’s way of life. My grandparents and parents have always lived in ways that are as self-sustainable as possible, such as growing and canning their own food. As I mourn the recent passing of my Grandma Buddy, I have found solace in handwork and in creating objects that show my respect for the matriarchs in my family and their way of life.