Lisa Griest

A chip of bark found under a Juniper tree. A torn piece of cloth from a stranger’s old coat. My figures usually start with a found object—something that suggests a face or a story that cannot be put into words yet longs to be told.

Well well, we have the artist with us again. How utterly utterly.

Flannery O’Connor

Although many of my figures are constructed like the simple handcrafted toys of old—stiff appendages attached to doll-like torsos covered in wax—they are anything but childlike. And yet I hope they instill in you a sense of having lost something when you abandoned your own childhood toys.

I want you to break free from that slow fade of imagination that sees wood as wood, cloth as cloth, shell as shell. There really is a soul in things, and–like the children in Wim Wenders’ film Wings of Desire—if you look closely, it is even possible to see angels standing among us.

I live in Prescott, Arizona with my husband, three Basset Hounds, and an endless number of mule deer, javelina, hummingbirds and orb spiders. A former library director, I now spend a lot of time in my studio, aka “My Happy Place.”