I have always been a maker and a storyteller, navigating a world of ever-shifting mediums. In my formative years I learned to use my body as my first tool, dancing to shape feeling into form. Later I found language, and then sculpture—each another way to craft meaning out of space. That impulse led me to pursue degrees in dance, writing, and fine art, culminating in my MFA from Cranbrook Academy of Art, where process became philosophy and material became message. There I was trained to consider every element as a carrier of meaning—to choose with intention, knowing nothing is neutral. That same approach now informs my choreography, where music, story, and gesture are in constant dialogue.

Form follows idea: you don’t just make; you ask why, and then ask again. At Cranbrook that ethos shaped everything. With no classes and no curriculum, I learned to live inside questions. To build something not because it looked right, but because it meant something. Each piece was an argument in material, and mine often began with dismantling: take a thing apart, turn it inside out, rebuild it so it surprises even itself.

My tools have shifted from clay and wire to rhythm and repetition, now I compose in space—measuring weight, balancing line, shaping energy. I think of choreography as ephemeral architecture, built to hold meaning, if only for a moment.