These paintings were done the year my daughter was born. Looking back on the paintings from this time, I see all the love for this new, amazing, beautiful little life, the surreal nature of pregnancy and birth, nest building and the isolation of new motherhood. All these little tiny houses with no doors, connected by thin strings and flimsy ladders. My own loneliness and precious few connections to friends and loved ones were painted here as literal lifelines. Indeed, my own time to paint was fiercely carved out of my days of nursing, cleaning, mothering and learning to live as two instead of one. What a strange, brutal and beautiful time that was.