Growing up in rural Indiana, I spent my days watching my mother make art. After moving to New York City, I dove into the music industry and spent years traveling the world. It was exciting, fast-paced, and eventually left me feeling empty. I knew I needed to create again.

A cross-country road trip led me back to my Mothers in Missouri, where I picked up my stained glass tools for the first time in years. Back in Brooklyn, I threw myself into the craft. Recognition came quickly with features, interviews, and a thriving business. But with it came burnout. I left New York, opened a small shop in Richmond, and discovered that having a storefront felt more like having a boss than the freedom I craved.

Still searching, I bounced around quite a bit until I finally landed in Northern New Mexico—and knew instantly I was home.

A year later, my world was upended by serious health issues: cancer, surgeries, menopause, and the emotional toll that followed. Unable to work with glass during chemo, I learned silversmithing and began combining it with kiln-fired glass cabochons of my own design. Then a bear attacked my ranch—and I took it as a cosmic nudge to finally pursue my longtime fascination with taxidermy. I went to Montana and studied with a master taxidermist. Eventually combining all 3 art forms as much as I can.

While the path hasn’t been easy—and I’ve made more than a few missteps—I’m now healthy, grounded, and more creatively inspired than ever. I’m endlessly grateful for the kind, patient, and supportive customers who understand the wild beauty (and chaos) of the life I live.

I can’t wait to see what’s next—and I hope you’ll be part of the journey.