jessica wildman katz

At its core, my practice is about presence. Through handwork, material experimentation, and shared experiences, I cultivate moments of intimacy, kinship, and discovery. In a culture that prizes speed, productivity, and certainty, my work embraces the unknown and values the journey over finality. It advocates for slowness, attentiveness, and embodied experience. My hope is that the work offers others what making has offered me: a way to reconnect with the world, and with the quiet, life-giving magic already woven into it.

Lately, I’ve been pulling teeth, mashing berries, and crawling into yard waste bags. It’s a spiritual journey, my life and my art, and they are completely intertwined. In this endless loop of mutual influence, I am guided by the quiet poetry of the familiar: a zipper sewn into my daughter’s Halloween costume becomes a meditation on connection and separation; pokeberry-stained hands reveal beauty that is vivid yet fleeting; tiny aster flowers in the garden, named for stars, hold something immense in the palm of my hand. This practice of paying attention has become both a way of making and a way of living. It reminds me that everything is connected, everything is changing, and that the ordinary is often where wonder resides.

My practice begins with a belief that everyday life is worthy of reverence. The familiar becomes a site of inquiry where seemingly insignificant objects and experiences open to larger questions of interconnectedness. For me, the work is a bridge between the everyday and the numinous. It’s less about representation, and more about participation. Art is where I return to myself, it is how I make sense of the world. Whether growing more than 500 wheatgrass bunnies from a Nordic Ware cake pan or constructing a wearable replica of my house from diaper boxes, I follow ideas with curiosity, trusting meaning to unfold in the process.