For over 20 years, I’ve built a creative career at the intersection of art, design, and entrepreneurship—founding product-based companies, scaling sustainable brands, and working across mediums with the intention of making a living through my work.

Until illness reshaped my life in my 40s, I rarely called myself an artist. My creative practice was always in service of survival: to support my family, to build businesses, to make things that mattered—but always with function first. CEO, founder, problem-solver—those titles fit better.

Since becoming disabled by Long Covid and dysautonomia, the relationship between my body, my work, and my identity is shifting. My illness is ungracefully forcing me to dismantle the urgency of productivity and forcing a redefinition of value. I am in the messy transition of understanding art not just as output, but as process, presence, and permission. It is no longer a luxury, but instead a lifeline.

This space is a reflection of both my past and present selves—still entrepreneurial, still resourceful, but now deeply rooted in embodiment, collaboration, and the politics of care.