About

Art found me long before I knew how to name it.

At nineteen, I moved to a remote mountain town at the base of the Canadian Rockies. There was no internet, no cell service, and no familiar faces—only time, quiet, and vastness. To keep myself occupied, I began to draw. Then paint. Then sew. Then experiment. What started as something to pass the hours quickly became an obsession—a focused, absorbing way of being in the world.

Over time, that private devotion found its way outward. I began sharing my work online, and to my surprise, it connected with people far beyond the mountains. My work traveled—into homes, publications, galleries, and collections around the world. It became not just a practice, but a living—one that allowed for a grounded, creative life shaped by intention rather than urgency. For that, I remain deeply grateful.

Ceramics entered my life almost by accident. I joined a local clay co-op, took a short workshop, and felt the unmistakable pull of the material. Clay spoke a language I already understood—slow, physical, responsive. Nearly two decades later, it continues to open new doors, stretching my work in ways I never anticipated.

My practice is intuitive by nature. I rarely plan. I listen. I allow. The worlds and characters that emerge are slightly off-center—quietly strange, tender, sometimes dark, often playful. They feel as though they exist just beyond our own dimension, waiting to be noticed. I don’t invent them so much as make space for them to arrive.

At its core, my work is an invitation: to let go, to trust instinct, to take risks, and to notice beauty in places that might otherwise be overlooked. I hope those who encounter my work feel a sense of permission—to soften, to wander, and to remain curious.

Thank you for joining me on this journey...