Select stockings with extended captions, displayed on felt slant boards.
1. Mi Familia – Dia de los Muertos, 2011
This piece honors both my family and my dear friend Christy, who adores all things Día de los Muertos. I’ve always been drawn to the way families — with all their quirks and tenderness — are deeply relatable. This stocking is a reflection of that connection.
Years ago, I loved scavenging upholstery samples — those small, richly textured fabric squares from stores like Hobby Lobby. I kept them in a shoebox, sifting through them for inspiration.
One particular scrap reminded me of the shirt Eric wore on our wedding day. That’s where the story began: I made him first, then the rest of us.
At the time, I didn’t feel confident portraying actual faces, and I wanted to honor Christy, so I turned us into Día de los Muertos figures — a nod to the October traditions Christy and I have shared, like visiting the Longmont Museum together.
Each bone bead I made from hand with Sculpey clay. The hot pink dress is the one I wore on our wedding day. Ruth appears here as a baby, with a little heart. Maggie, as always, is joy in motion. And Li Zhi wears a suit — just right.
2. Michelle’s Nike Shoe Tread, 2022
This piece is a tribute to my best running companion, Michelle Allen, and the countless miles we’ve shared side by side. The design is an exact imprint of her Nike shoe tread—a testament to the footsteps we’ve taken together and the memories we’ve woven into every run.
Embedded in the fabric are fragments from our many runs: public utility flags, shoelaces, beads, and bits of road debris collected from the streets of Broomfield. Each piece was gathered over time, tucked into a Ziploc bag as markers of our shared endurance, laughter, and unwavering friendship.
To create this tribute, Michelle captured a photo of her shoe’s sole, which I transformed into a high-contrast image. I transferred its bold lines onto the stocking base, ensuring that her steps—our steps—would be forever stitched into this work.
This stocking is more than fabric and found objects; it is a reflection of the thousands of miles, stories, and moments that have defined our friendship—one step at a time.
3. Ikat Uzbekistan Trip With Mom, 2024
When my mom invited me to travel with her to Uzbekistan—a land rich in history, cotton, and the intricate art of ikat weaving—I couldn’t resist the journey. We explored vibrant cities like Tashkent, Samarkand, Khiva, Nukus, and Bukhara, each steeped in tradition and craftsmanship.
In Bukhara, I watched master weavers bring ikat patterns to life, their hands moving with precision, blending centuries-old techniques with contemporary artistry. Inspired, I purchased yards of this beautifully handwoven fabric, eager to experiment and merge my own artistic vision with this timeless textile.
Here, layers of beaded patterns dance across the ikat print, creating a dialogue between tradition and reinterpretation. The handle is adorned with a small trinket of an Uzbek man, a small treasure found in a bustling outdoor market—an homage to the culture, people, and artistry that shaped this piece.
This work is more than fabric and beads; it’s treasured memories and time spent with my mom and a celebration of Uzbekistan’s enduring creative spirit.
4. The Best Day of My Life, Taylor Swift Eras Tour, 2023
Some moments are so magical, they stay with you forever. Taking my three kids to Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour were some of those moments.
The surprises began when I revealed to Ruth and Maggie that we were headed to Las Vegas for the show at Allegiant Stadium—an unforgettable gift made possible with help from my mom. Their excitement was electric as I surprised them at the McCarran airport and took them to the show.
Then, at Mile High Stadium in Denver, Li Zhi and I experienced Taylor’s magic together. He crafted the perfect concert outfit—denim, bejeweled, shimmering under the lights. It was everything. After the show, I asked him what he thought. He paused, reflecting, and said nothing.
The next day, with quiet certainty, he said:
“It was the best day of my life.”
I couldn’t agree more.
This stocking captures the joy of that night—the beaded details echo the dazzling colors of the opening fans, while our concert outfits and favorite songs are sewn in with friendship beads. It’s a tribute to the music, the memories, and the moments that made this one of the best days of our lives.
5. LZ Doodles, 2023
One evening, as I cooked dinner, Li Zhi sat at the kitchen island, absentmindedly doodling on a notepad. With each stroke of his pen, a pattern of interconnected squares emerged—a simple, moment, woven into our everyday rhythm of conversation.
After he left, I tacked his doodle onto the fridge, a small keepsake of the blessing of a regular dinner conversation. But over time, I saw more than just lines on paper—I saw color, movement, and fabric waiting to take shape. Inspired, I transformed his design, layering, and turning the squares to create a dynamic pattern. The bright silks, gifted by my friend Christy discovered as remnants from a garage sale, became the perfect medium—each silk breathing life into his spontaneous creation.
This stocking is more than fabric and thread; it’s a tribute to everyday moments we share with our children—the ones that seem ordinary at first but, in hindsight, become something truly special.
6. Covid Zoom Doodles: Time Pressure, 2020
During the pandemic, our work days blurred into endless Zoom calls—glowing screens replacing real-world connection, time slipping away in a loop of virtual meetings.
Like many, I found myself instinctively doodling while online—swirls, daisies, dots, and scribbles filling the margins of my notebook. These small, unconscious sketches became a quiet act of rebellion—something tangible, something real in a world that had gone fully digital.
This piece is born from a need to create, to escape the screen’s relentless brightness. The colors are deliberately earthy, grounding the piece in contrast to the artificial glow of pixels. Each stitch is a reminder that even in isolation, we can leave something behind—something made by hand, something that exists beyond the screen.
7. Love is a Wild Thing, 2020
Kacey Musgraves on repeat.
“You can’t find it, sitting on the shelf in a store.
If you try to hide it, it’s gonna shine even more.
Even if you lose it, it will find you.”
Love isn’t predictable. It moves like rivers searching for the ocean, like flowers breaking through concrete, like melodies carried on the wind. It thrives in the unexpected, blooming where you least expect it.
I had pieces of bright silk that felt like this song—vibrant, untamed, alive. I stitched them together, starting with leaves unfurling from a single point. But soon, the design took on a life of its own. Shapes overlapped, hearts and petals intertwined, movement spilled beyond the lines. It felt wild, like love itself—uncontainable, ever-growing, beautifully free.
Love is a wild thing.
8. Resin Bead, Expanded, 2019
Every year, the Rocky Mountain Bead Society hosts a bead show—a gathering of artists, collectors, and creatives. It used to be held at the old Denver Merchandise Mart, where rows of independent artists displayed their one-of-a-kind creations.
That’s where I first discovered a talented resin bead artist. Her beads were more than beautiful; they solved a challenge I often faced—choosing a color scheme. I don’t have an instinct for color, but these beads became my guide. Their hues and patterns led me, shaping my designs in ways I hadn’t imagined.
Inspired by one particular bead, I expanded its individual elements, layering textures and patterns, letting its influence grow into something uniquely my own.
A few years ago, I learned that the artist had passed away. At another show, her sister was there, selling the last of her work. I only wish she had known how her creativity sparked mine—how a single bead, made by her hands, carried its inspiration forward.
9. Three Voices: LZ, Maggie, Ruth, 2023
The inspiration for this piece came once again from the resin artist whose work had sparked so much of my own creativity. I took her resin shapes, and wanted to turn them inside out. I echoed the shapes from her beads, creating windows in yellow silk, each space meant to be filled with beads. The vibrant yellow was stunning on its own, a bright canvas full of potential.
But when I began to fill the shapes, the beads overwhelmed the silk, stifling its spirit. I tried again and again, pulling out beads, rearranging, but it never felt right. The piece wasn’t speaking to me, and I realized it was important to let it find its own voice—to allow it to express itself in its purest form.
Rather than forcing it, I chose to honor the remnants of those failed attempts. The beads stayed where they had fallen, an homage to the creative struggles we all face.
Then I decided to bring in real voices—my children’s voices. I asked LZ, Maggie, and Ruth to write down words that told the story of their 2023. Each of them shared their thoughts, their experiences. I traced their handwriting and sewed over their words in black thread, preserving their voices, their handwriting, and the passage of time.
This piece is not just a reflection of my own journey; it’s their voices woven into the fabric of this moment.
10. Visible/Invisible Stories, 2025
Everyone has a story arc — the life we show, and the motivations we don’t. Secret dreams. Emotional debts. Celebrated wins and unnoticed moments.
Every story is part visible, part invisible. Some chapters we never share, can’t share, or choose to keep to ourselves — not even whispered in the kitchen. And then there are the stories we tell instead — to others, to ourselves — to protect what remains unseen.
This work is about both: the visible and the invisible.
There are beads you can see, and beads you can’t. Some are transparent, others opaque. Trinkets layered over clear moments. At first glance, the pattern looks like simple stripes. That’s the surface story. But those stripes are actual data: Peloton Power Zone outputs — resistance, cadence, heart rate. An invisible narrative, hidden in plain sight… if you know where to look.
11. Maggie Donut Sunday, 2010
When our kids were little, we had a family tradition called Donut Sunday.
Every week, we’d walk to King Soopers and the kids would pick a donut — the highlight of their weekend. The tradition wasn’t just the donuts, though. It was the moment they took that very first bite. I’d always snap a photo. Over time, those photos turned into a time-lapse of childhood — a sugary-sweet record of them growing up, one bite at a time.
My daughter Maggie’s bite was always the biggest, the most enthusiastic — eyes wide, mouth open, joy unfiltered.
In this piece, Maggie’s hair is made from paint chips I found at Lowe’s, hand-cut and sewn onto the fabric. Her shirt is a scrap of cloth from my friend Christy, who used the same material to sew a handbag. And the “a” in her name? That’s a mini donut, of course.
12. 2003 Tour de France, Montmartre Fabric,
In 2003, my husband and I traveled to France with my dad to follow the Tour de France — one of the years Lance Armstrong won. We cycled legendary mountain passes and traced the route alongside the riders. It was an unforgettable adventure: a whirlwind around the country, full of grit, laughter, and breathtaking views.
While in Paris, we wandered through Montmartre and found a street famous for textiles. That’s where I picked up a piece of French blue fabric — a textile souvenir from a very vivid journey.
For years, the fabric sat untouched. Then one day, I started stitching beads along the pattern. The design came alive — textured, sparkling, almost humming with memory.
Now, every time I see it, I’m taken back to France: the famous climbs, the cobblestones, the time with my dad and Eric.
13. Light On in the Kitchen, 2024
In October 2024, my friend Christy called with a last-minute idea: “Wanna drive to Greeley and see Ashley McBryde tonight? Bring Shannon. Three makes a party.”
Christy and I met in college at UNC in Greeley, so the night felt like a full-circle moment. We even stopped for a plate of Roma spaghetti — just like we did back in college.
Ashley’s Light On in the Kitchen is one of my favorite songs — a tribute to the kind of friend who’s always there when life goes sideways.
Not long after the concert, life did go sideways. I started this piece feeling hollowed out — stitching hearts like bullet holes across the fabric. But as I worked, it shifted. I couldn’t leave the pain on fabric without also honoring the gift of friendship that held me together.
It’s my first piece using negative space — each heart a cutout revealing chiles on the lining, and tiny memory treasures tucked inside.
At the heart of it: two friends, talking in the kitchen. With the light on.
14. Turks and Caicos, Sunset, 2022
This piece was born from an unexpected spark of inspiration. I was on the hunt for an original Tony Ortega chalk painting when I stumbled upon a local gallery featuring works by Monroe Hodder. I was immediately drawn to the energy of his paintings — the bold colors and dynamic brushstrokes. It ignited something in me.
I wanted to capture that same vibrancy, but through my own lens. The result? A fun experiment in energy and texture, as I mirrored Monroe’s movement with beads.
I loved the freedom of taking someone else’s art as inspiration, but then making it my own. Using leftover beads — bits and pieces that didn’t quite fit anywhere else — felt like giving them new life. There was something satisfying about using up what I had and finding a place for each bead to belong.
Part of this piece came to life while I was on vacation, on a quiet, secluded beach in Turks and Caicos. It was the perfect environment to let creativity flow, and I could feel the energy of the piece coming alive, alongside the peacefulness of the setting.
This project was more than just about the beads. It was about the creative process itself — and, in a way, it was a gift from 2022. For all the challenges it brought, it also brought this work, which helped me process and move forward.
15. Running: Team Stupid Hobby, 2017
This piece was inspired by my running friends, Laurie and Michelle. Every step, every stride, and every mile, I’m grateful for the friends who understand my two #stupidhobbies: sewing stockings and running.
Our tradition started the same way every time — early mornings, before the sun rises, we meet in the darkness for a run. And, as we lace up our shoes, we repeat Michelle’s motto: “This is a stupid hobby.”
It’s become a mantra, a reminder that sometimes the things we love the most don’t always make sense. And the rest of the sayings? They’re the refrains from countless miles of conversations, shared laughs, and life stories — all stitched into this fabric.
Anyone who’s ever run will recognize the familiar symbols: a race bib number, a Garmin map, and the most famous intersection in running lore — Hereford and Boylston.
Thank you, Laurie and Michelle, for the miles, the memories.
16. Broomfield: Home in the Suburbs, 2015
There’s a myth that artists live in seaside towns, remote cabins, or tucked-away bohemian enclaves. But that’s not my story.
I live in Broomfield — a suburb. And in my opinion, the suburbs are underrepresented in art.
This stocking is a portrait of our home — the kinds of trees that line our street, our actual bikes, and even our regular old mailbox.
It’s a celebration of the real places many of us live.
Because beauty isn’t only found in far-off places — sometimes, it’s right here in the suburbs.
17. Waves of Intensity, 2022
Years ago, I found a small collection of resin beads at a local bead show — vibrant, full of life, and unlike anything I’d seen. I went searching for more, only to learn the artist had passed away. Her sister was quietly selling off the remaining inventory at a little table.
It felt bittersweet to buy them — sad to know the artist was gone, but meaningful to carry her work forward. These resin beads became the foundation of this piece — a way to honor her talent and spirit.
I’m drawn to the deep color waves in the beads. They remind me of life itself: unpredictable, layered, and sometimes intense. I paired them with silk gifted to me by Christy (every stocking includes a piece of Christy) — a mix of textures that somehow just works.
This piece was also meant to draw inspiration from textiles I had hoped to find in Otavalo, Ecuador. But the trip was cut short due to civil unrest. Still, I brought home a single handwoven belt from a market in Quito. It now crowns the top of the piece — a marker of where the story began, and a promise to return.
Until then, the journey continues — and so does the stitching.
18. Marrakesh Market: Coral Blue Moroccan Silk, 2000s
I found the fabric for this stocking in a special shop in Santa Fe, while travelling with my dear friend Christy. I held onto it for a long time, waiting for the right spark to bring it to life.
That spark came when my mom returned from a market in Marrakesh, Morocco, with a bundle of vibrant silk threads wrapped around bamboo stalks. The colors were bold and full of energy — instantly inspiring.
Blue felt like the natural match for the coral fabric, so I leaned into a single-color palette. The design is what I often doodle while on the phone. As I stitched, the piece called for more texture and movement — so I added vines, winding around the stitches using leftover fabric scraps to add an organic element to the geometric design.
The edge is finished with matte blue seed beads in a picot stitch — a delicate detail that might just be my new favorite finish.
This piece is a blend of places, people— woven together in silk, color, and memory.
19. Broomfield, Ruth Roberts Open Space, 2015
I’ve always loved running the trails in Broomfield, especially in the fall. As the grasses dry out, they turn golden and brittle, whispering and crackling in the wind — like the landscape is alive and speaking.
One of my favorite spots is the Ruth Roberts Open Space at Dillon Road and Hwy 287. In autumn, there’s a pumpkin patch nearby that you might recognize — a reminder of the season.
I wanted to capture the beauty of those wild, waving grasses in that open space — their movement, their texture, their subtle color shifts. This piece is my stitched interpretation of that open space.
20. Santa Fe Threads, 2010s
To celebrate our birthdays and years of friendship, my friend Christy and I took a trip to Santa Fe — a place rich with color, culture, and inspiration. One of the highlights was visiting the Folk Art Museum, where I was instantly drawn to a Guatemalan scarf on display.
The bold patterns and vibrant textures sparked something in me. I’ve always loved textiles from around the world — how they carry the stories of handicraft, people, and tradition. Using brightly colored beads, I created patterns that echo the spirit of that scarf, filtered through my own voice and style.
This stocking holds particularly joyful memories — of Christy, shared adventure, and the creative spark that comes from being surrounded by beautiful things in the company of a dear friend.
21. Otomi Love, 2021
Mexican art has always brought me joy — the bold colors, the movement, the sheer aliveness woven into every detail. This piece was inspired by Otomi embroidery, with its joyful patterns and deep cultural roots.
In 2000, my dear friend Christy gifted us a large Otomi textile as a wedding present. I framed it, and it still hangs in my home today— a daily reminder of love and friendship.
This stocking is a tribute to that memory. It blends the old and the new: fabrics and beads collected over time, scraps from past projects, and the energy of inspiration that feels both familiar and fresh.
2021 was a year full of everything — change, reflection, growth. And through it all, this piece became a celebration – stitched together, one joyful detail at a time.
22. The First Stocking, 1991
This is one of the very first stockings I ever made — back in college, University of North Colorado in Greeley, living in a shared house with my friend Christy.
It came from a pattern, but it was the beginning of something bigger — the first step toward finding my own creative voice.
I’ll always remember those nights: Christy and I, studying and cross-stitching, surrounded by textbooks and thread. We were the “crazy ones” — stitching when everyone else was out — and loving every minute of it.
This stocking holds all of that early energy, friendship, and the spark that started it all.
23. Every Single Moment, 2025
The artist’s most recent creation.
Stockings hung on wall, from top to bottom then left to right.
Julie, ND
Peter, ND
Sesame Street (Pattern), 1985
David Beads (Pattern), 1990s
Red Angels (Pattern), 1990s
Dad Cat (Pattern), 1997
Huge Julie Stocking (Pattern), 2000
David Angels (Pattern), 2001
Butterflies and Beads, Crate and Barrel Upholstery Scraps, 2000s
Gold Brown Beads, tribute to beader Robin Atkins, 2001
Eric Green Santa (Pattern), early 2000s
Mom’s Birds (Pattern), early 2000s
“R” is for Rieken, mid-2000s
Santa Fe Applique, Christy Trip, mid-2000s
Pink and Green Heart, 2000s
Leaping Santa (Pattern), 2003
Li Zhi Cross Stitch (Pattern), 2004
Maggie Santa (Pattern), 2006
Tall Quaker Sampler (Pattern), 2007
Li Zhi Lion, Fabric Scraps, 2008
White Blue Snowflakes (Pattern), 2008
Ruth Cross Stitch (Pattern), 2009
Red/Green Beads, Random Holiday Colors, 2010s
Brown Fringe Sampler (Pattern), 2011
Santa Fe Snowflakes, Free Form Cross Stitch, 2012
Ruth Paint Chips, Donut Sunday, 2013
Maggie’s Drawings as a Child, 2013
Polish Paper Cuts, for Granny, 2014
Use up the Leftover, Recycled Materials, 2015
Indian Papoose Print, 2016
Papel Picado, 2018
Boiled Wool Scrap, Continued, 2018
Julie Santa Fe Coffee, 2022
Blue and Silver Beads, 2022
Ikat and Beaded Shoe Tread