.:LESSONS FROM A TINY TREE:. For her first winter solstice, I decided not to buy toys. I knew I wanted to give her something alive. Something that would grow alongside her. Although I never felt drawn to the tradition of cutting down a tree for the holidays, I also knew I didn’t want to bring home something temporary. If we were going to have a tree, I wanted it to live. And if possible, I wanted it to give back. So for her first solstice, she received only one gift. A tree.

.:THE LIFE I CHOSE:. There are certain experiences that divide life into a before and after. For me, motherhood became one of them. Before actually becoming a mother, I felt like society made it seem like in order to be a “good” mom, that life would become incredibly structured. I thought I would have to control everything, follow every rule, and somehow do it all “perfectly”. But even before pregnancy, I knew I wanted something different. Something a little more wild. A lit

.:THE DREAM TAKING SHAPE:. Some dreams arrive all at once… Others reveal themselves slowly. This one has been unfolding for years. For a long time, I struggled to fit neatly inside the box of what a modern tattoo artist was supposed to be. Although I deeply respect the artists and traditions that came before me, I always felt drawn toward something a little different. I wanted my work and the space surrounding it to feel like an extension of who I am. Not just a place to rece

.:LEARNING TO LIVE MORE SLOWLY:. For many years, my life revolved around work. I tattooed five days a week for years, and although I genuinely loved what I did, it was demanding. Long days often left me exhausted, and my time off became less about adventure and more about trying to recover enough to begin again the following week. Even then, I didn’t necessarily consider myself someone who was always busy… I enjoyed quiet evenings. I appreciated rest. I wasn’t filling my days

.:ON MEMORY AND MEANING:. I don’t remember a time before art… As a child, I was constantly creating. I made costumes out of newspaper and eventually fabric, painted on wood, experimented with sculpting and ceramics, played with face paint, and drew on just about anything I could get my hands on… including myself and my classmates. Creativity wasn’t something I felt I ever had to practice. It was simply the world I lived in. Looking back, I realize how fortunate I was to have

.:GROWING ROOTS:. For as long as I can remember, writing and drawing have been how I’ve made sense of the world. Through different seasons of life, I have always returned to the page. Sometimes to document beauty, to process change or simply to remember. Recently, I made significant changes to my personal and professional life in order to create a quieter and more peaceful foundation for myself and my child. In many ways, I uprooted everything familiar and began again. That s