Creativity has given shape to my life—and I owe it nothing less than honesty.
This is where I speak plainly and freely about what I’ve learned, what I’m still unlearning, and the strange, beautiful privilege of building a life through creative work. I believe in radical transparency, in naming what’s real, and in sharing the deeper currents beneath the practice. This isn’t marketing. It’s the why behind everything else.
The Practice of Becoming
When I was little, I was called creative. Mostly in that 1980s way—a soft label adults used to let my parents know I was a pain in the ass. I knew the world looked different to me than it did to most people. It still does. That sense of difference never left. It’s the chip I carry from childhood—the weight of being a freak who tried too hard to pass as normal.
Playing with Fire.
You learn early. Fire can feed you, or it can erase you. Maybe it is the same with anything real. You cannot muscle it into place. You work with it, or you get out of the way.
Maybe that is why I am drawn to it the way I am.
Not to fight it.
Not to tame it.
But to work alongside it.
Saved by Art
I remember what it felt like to be overflowing with energy and constantly punished for it. I remember being told to stop drawing. To sit down. To shut up. To get out.
And I know what it means when someone finally looks at you and says:
That thing you feel? That’s art. And it belongs to you.
Spouse Brag
Friends, I’m here to spouse-brag.
I’ve had the privilege of sharing life with this amazing human for 20 years. And watching her grow as a professional has been inspirational.
Keep Going
And yeah—you might hit a dead end.
You might have to push through thick brush or backtrack a little.
But keep going.
That’s where the good stuff lives.
Not comfort—
but adventure.
Discovery.
