Current Work

I am a Seattle-based glass artist and educator exploring how objects hold memory, grief, and resilience. My work asks how joy and loss can coexist in the same form, and how the things we grow up with—toys, lamps, and other nostalgic objects—quietly absorb the weight of our experiences. Through patterns of use and behavior, these objects become emotional landmarks, holding the traces of experiences long after the moments themselves have passed. I use glassblowing as a means of processing grief, exploring how we are broken and remade, continually shaped by what we learn along the way.

Like an arrow shot through a sheet hung out to dry, grief tears through the life you thought you were building. Even so, light still finds its way through. My work lives in the space where joy and grief coexist: the wistful moments. By combining these objects with Swedish techniques, I hope to create shifting layers of color and light that change as the viewer moves around them. Internal colors emerge, disappear, and reappear, creating a sense of memory in motion.

Formally, I draw heavily from traditional Swedish glass techniques, especially color layering and color blocking. My background in painting taught me to build through layers. This translates into glass which can utilize translucent veils suspended within blown and sculptural forms. The multiple layers of clear and colored glass that are sandblasted, encased, and revealed will create optical depth that act as a metaphor for memory, grief, and emotional complexity. I am developing blown sculptures inspired by nostalgic objects: lava lamps, disco balls, gumball machines, and other forms that feel playful, familiar, and wistful.

My lived experience and community work are central to my practice. I work at the Chihuly Garden of glass where I connect with people from all over the world daily. I have a BFA in Studio Arts with a minor in Psychology. These experiences have given me the opportunity to work at the Museum of Glass teaching through the Hot Shop Heroes program. This trauma-informed, community-based environment continually reminds me that glass can be a tool for reflection, connection, and healing, especially when traditional systems of care or justice have failed people. Working alongside others has shaped my understanding of art as something that helps us make sense of difficult experiences and find meaning in them.

I hope viewers encounter my work as an invitation to feel rather than decode, to spark a moment of recognition—the memory of a childhood bedroom, a skating rink, a waiting room—and then complicate that memory with the weight of lived experience. I aim to create spaces where people can see their own wistfulness reflected. I believe art is what we leave of ourselves in other people. These objects are symbols of what survives: wonder, resilience, and the complicated tenderness of remembering.