I didn’t grow up knowing I’d be an artist. I just knew I needed somewhere to put the feelings.

I was a sensitive, creative kid—restless, curious, always dancing, drawing, telling stories with dolls and in mirrors. My parents put me in dance classes at four, probably hoping I’d burn off some energy. What I found instead was rhythm. Expression. A place I could belong without needing to explain myself.

 

​I trained at USC, graduating Cum Laude with a degree in Theatre. I threw myself into acting: commercials, indie films, immersive theater. Eventually, I joined the Open Fist Theatre Company. But as much as I loved performance, I often found myself drawn to what was happening offstage too: painting sets, crafting atmosphere, making the world behind the characters just as emotional as the script itself.

​

At some point, I picked up a paintbrush with no assignment in mind. Just the ache to create. And something shifted.

Painting gave me a way to go inward. No character, no lines, no applause. Just me, color, form, and the mystery of what might emerge. I taught myself slowly and patiently. Paint became my way of asking questions I didn’t have language for:

What does it mean to be reborn?
How do we hold beauty and grief in the same breath?

​

Over time, my visual art deepened. Myth, metaphysics, and archetypes found their way in. Fairytales and alchemy. Shadow and sacredness. My brush became a compass, and my canvas like a mirror. I really enjoyed thinking of my paintings as portals.

​

Life led me away from Los Angeles and toward a new kind of landscape. I relocated to the Shoals of Northern Alabama — a place where art and history sings on the river.

​

Now, I teach. I collaborate. I continue to create. I offer acting workshops, expressive art classes, and consulting for creatives who want to deepen their work or beautify their spaces. I serve the community I’m part of, while staying true to the winding path that brought me here.

​

At the end of the day, I work from a place I always knew to be true... that art isn’t separate from life. Art gives us a reason. It's how we make sense of longing. How we keep our stories alive.
And, without giving too much away, it’s how I’ve kept myself alive.

​

I hope you find a spark of yourself here, too... maybe in a painting, a performance, or a room we share together one day soon.