You may know me from my work in marketing and technology. This is the rest of who I am, and you are welcome here.

My earliest memories are of living on a lake in upstate New York — mossy woods, clear water, and fields that started where our yard gave way and infinity began. I was five, and I did not visit these spaces so much as belong to them. I would dangle my toes from the dock and wait for my fish friends to rise and greet me. I believed we were in kinship. What some may call magical thinking, I now understand as something older and truer: that we are deeply, inextricably woven into the world we inhabit. We have simply forgotten. My work is about remembering.

A life is shaped by the people who illuminate the world in new ways. My mother was the first. The youngest of five, I grew up watching her conjure magic from ordinary things: beeswax candles, jam made from berries picked in the fields beside our house. In kindergarten, my teacher Carol Barrows filled a room with light, drawing us into painting, dancing, singing, tending living things — she trusted that feeling precedes knowing. I still orient from that foundation.

Later, in a university classroom, Dr. Davíd Carrasco opened another kind of door. His teaching on the sacred dimensions of human experience – the ways ritual, symbol, creativity, shared experience, and cosmology make meaning across cultures and centuries – named something I had felt but could not yet articulate: that the world is not merely material, that the ordinary is threaded through with the holy. His words landed like recognition. They still do.

In art school, my peers called my work delightfully weird. I took that in and recognized something important: my creative voice was distinct, and the art was teaching me as I made it. A willingness to surrender to process, to follow what wanted to emerge, created a shift in others. If my work creates a moment of awareness, a feeling, a small opening in someone's experience, I consider that exchange a sacred one.

For as long as I can remember, I have been someone who looks slowly and attunes deeply. Over time I have come to embrace this sometimes-challenging trait as a gift – a willingness to witness carefully, to honor what is fragile and sacred in all of us and the world we inhabit, and to play in those spaces between the seen and unseen.

I work in sculpture, photography, drawing, and illustration. Sculpture is my soul place, where I feel most anchored – where I listen for what materials want to become and participate in that becoming. The forms that emerge are an alchemy of my life experience forged with the tactile, natural motifs that enchanted me as a child. Photography and drawing are forms of meditation. Illustration is joy and delight.

The undercurrent of my life is a belief that we are, at our foundation, connected – to one another, to the earth, to something sacred that moves through all living things. For me, the closest word for that undercurrent is love. My work is an invitation to feel the kinship that is waiting beneath the surface of ordinary life.

May love be my legacy.