During the final few years of her life, my grandmother was bound to a chair similar to this one. She derived much of her identity through the use of her hands to complete woven (crochet/macrame) projects: a labor of love. When she lost the ability to use her hands and became confined to her chair forever in the corner of her living room, I felt a great devotion to push myself to keep making art, often in the very same medium of embroidery thread that she used. The hollow chair form seems to spill out of the woven network of a large doily that is draped over the back of this chair. In the center of its seat, there is an impression on the chair cushion that suggests both my grandmother's absence and her presence. Making these large-scale fiber works is a very time-consuming and grueling feat. This is my labor of love in honor of my grandmother, who is still very close to my heart. When I make these fiber sculptures it's as though I'm building for the both of us.