STATEMENT

Arachne was a weaver in Greek mythology, so skilled that people said her hands moved like magic. Pride got the better of her, and she boasted she could out-weave the goddess Athena herself. The goddess challenged the mortal, and Arachne delivered a tapestry so precise and fearless that it exposed the corruption and hypocrisy of the gods, especially Zeus, who misled and abused mortals.  Humiliated by the mortal’s mastery and audacity, Athena destroyed the work and struck Arachne down. As Arachne tried to take her own life, Athena transformed her into a spider—not as mercy, but as a sentence: to weave forever. Arachne became the mythic figure who spoke truth through craft.

Arachne begins as a woman who knows her own skill. She doesn’t doubt it. She doesn’t hide it. She challenges a goddess because her work is exceptional, and she refuses to pretend otherwise. That clarity—about her labor, her worth, her right to be seen—forms the structure of my practice.

The Challenge

Arachne challenged the hierarchy she was born into. I challenge the hierarchy built around materials labeled as “craft,” “domestic,” or “women’s work.” I take thread and time—materials historically minimized—and scale them up until they become impossible to dismiss. Large, labor-intensive pieces that insist on the value of the hours a woman spends making them. My work pushes against the expectations placed on me and claims space that was never freely offered.

The Lineage

Arachne didn’t come from nowhere; she came from a line of women who taught her, shaped her, and limited her. I honor my own lineage in the same way. My grandmother—a fiber artist. As another woman in her circle showed in prestigious galleries; she stayed small and made work for her own walls. She later spoke about that decision with regret. I make this work for her, and for the many women who keep themselves small (because they have no other option).

The Proof

Arachne didn’t simply boast; she demonstrated. Her tapestry’s subject was truth. My work carries that same intention. It addresses power, womanhood, time, and the shape of the feminine. I’ve given birth twice. I understand creation not as metaphor but as physical reality that demanded, transformed, and clarified. I make art in conversation with that knowledge. The divine feminine is not abstract to me; it is something I embody.

The Consequence

The traditional telling says Arachne was punished. I read her transformation differently. A spider is a maker. A builder. A being defined by its ability to create structure out of nearly nothing. Arachne becomes the very act of weaving made alive. I call on that version of her—the one who continues the work without stopping and without apology. She is the witness I ask for daily.

This is not your grandma’s embroidery.

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