I've always been drawn to what’s real. The raw edges. The unexpected shapes. The things that don’t try too hard to be anything other than what they are. That's where beauty lives for me.

That pull toward what's real is what put a camera in my hands first. My work started there, chasing light and texture. Photography taught me to see — really see — the small, honest details most people walk right past.

Some of my earliest memories of making art come from the Appalachian Mountains. Near my family's cabin, at the end of a gravel road, lived an older couple who seemed to know how to create something from almost nothing. They taught me to draw with charcoal from the fire, carve snake canes from saplings twisted with grapevine, and make dolls from paper bags. More than anything, they taught me to look at the world differently.

They sparked a curiosity that followed me everywhere.

Over the next thirty years, that curiosity took me everywhere - through teaching, photography, and raising a family in the Midwest. It taught me to slow down and really see. To notice texture, light, imperfection, and the quiet details most people walk right past.

Eventually, that same way of seeing led me to metalsmithing.

Now, instead of framing the world through a lens, I hold it in my hands through silver, stone, and fire.

Every piece begins with materials that already have a story to tell. Turquoise, chrysocolla, agate, labradorite, and other natural stones each carry their own character, their own voice. I listen first. The metal follows their lead.

Today, my husband Mark and I live in the mountains of western North Carolina, not far from where that creative journey first began. The landscape that inspired me as a child still inspires me every day. The rivers, forests, weathered stone, and untamed beauty of these mountains find their way into everything I create.

My work is for people who are comfortable being themselves. People who'd rather wear something with a story than something with no past at all. People who appreciate craftsmanship, character, and the stories that objects can carry. Jewelry that doesn't shout, but still has presence. Strong, soulful, and quietly wild.

Pieces meant to be lived in, layered, and loved over time.

Because the best stories are rarely perfect. They're shaped by experience, marked by time, and made more beautiful by the journey.