Rooted in Norse and Celtic folklore, Selkies meaning “seal folk” are mythological beings that can transform between human and seal. Among the many variations of Selkie stories, the most common begin with a selkie woman removing her seal skin and dancing on the shore. A man spies her dancing, and steals the coat. With her fur held hostage she has no choice but to marry the man and live as a human woman. One day the selkie discovers her skin and escapes back to the sea. In some stories she has children and abandons them, in other stories, the children return to sea with her. 

“Home is in the Skin”, Hand Quilted with Repurposed textile, 2025

Looking across to San Juan Island days before the start of my residency, I saw a Selkie. The image consumed me. As a tactile-focused artist, I began to think about skin.

Like the Selkie, our skin is something we inherit. The stories of our ancestral homes are contained in our bodies. When we lose our skin or our skin is stolen, we lose our connection to home. In this colonized world, displacement is experienced globally. We did not choose the world we inherited, yet we are left to cope with and understand our place in it. When we lose our connection to place, how can we feel connected to the webs of life and time?

The story of the Selkie has shown me that when home is not a place, it is an embodiment. Home is in our skin. It is contained in the stories we tell and nurtured by the way in which we use and listen to our bodies. In our rapidly changing and disappearing environments, holding onto these stories seems more necessary and important than ever. 

Quilts are stories passed down through generations as a sacred practice. The embodied meditative experience of stitching is a way for me to return home to my hands and my skin. I find joy in finishing a quilt, wrapping myself up into it, as if it is my skin. In the physical sense of the word feel, through hand stitching, I feel connected to the lineage of women who came before me. When you reclaim your skin, you come home.