Before I knew the word

Some of my earliest memories of making are quiet ones. My mother and I at the table, covering delicate eggs with fragments of printed napkins — flowers, patterns, small pieces carefully pressed into place. Glue on our fingers, patience in the repetition.

At the time, I didn’t know there was a name for what we were doing. Decoupage was just something we made. But something about paper — the layering, the transformation, the way surface could change completely — stayed with me long after the eggs were put away.

Looking back, the foundation of my work was already forming: a fascination with paper, with surface, with transformation. Long before I knew the words collage or decoupage, I was already learning to see possibilities in fragments.