Ingrid grew up in Texas the child of two artists. So art is literally in her blood. It is natural she would also express herself as an artist. Looking at her work is like looking into the mind of the artist herself. Layer upon layer of images, art, texture, poetry, and paint float to the surface of her work. Each a memory, a thought ‘ an idea. It is an extraordinary achievement to translate thought, memories, and ideas to canvas, but Ingrid has done it. And the common question is, how does she do it” Meaning the actual creation of the work. While she does not offer the subtle details of her technique, it is clear that they are composed of layers: layers of transparent and opaque imagery, paint, collage, and ink. Throughout all of this are the fragments of her poems written both forward and backward. But the poems, like the imagery are fractured, leading the viewer through the artist’s dream.
Ingrid’s works are in fact dreams made manifest. And like a dream, one must suspend the rigid rules and conventions of the intellect. A dream is the gossamer wing of a butterfly, so easily destroyed when held too tight. Ingrid’s works are meant to be seen and then felt until words become pointless.