Creator. Wanderer. Worshiper in the wild.

I began drawing when I was ten — copying illustrations from a Bible storybook onto paper with a pencil and a steady hand. I didn’t know then that I was practicing something sacred: learning to see. Not just shapes and shadows, but meaning. Presence. Beauty stitched with purpose.

Later, with a camera in my hand, I found I could frame not only the wild places that stirred my spirit, but also the subtle expressions in a loved one’s face — the holy woven into the ordinary.

But all of it — the sketch, the photo, the formed clay — is only ever a reflection.

Because I am not the Creator. I am the created.

And anything I make is simply a mirror, angled to catch the light of the One who made everything first.

I work in charcoal and graphite. I shape clay dug from the land I live on. I gather light through my lens on mountain trails, beside rushing water, beneath the weight of sky. Each piece I create begins not in the studio, but in silence — in the hush of a trail where I talk with God, listen for Him, and watch.

Mountains remind me that He is unmovable.

Waterfalls teach me to trust what flows.

And every time I return to the wild, I return changed.

This work is not just my passion — it’s my redirection.

After years of creating professionally for others, and the loss of a role I once thought was my purpose, I asked God again what He wanted from me.

And He answered: Return to what I first placed in your hands.

So now I create with new intention: to help people not just see something beautiful, but to look deeper. To glimpse something eternal.

I long to build a community of wonderers — people who recognize beauty as invitation. Who want to learn from the created world what the Creator is like. Who are willing to slow down, ask questions, and walk the quiet path toward awe.

If you remember only one thing about my work, let it be this: