Come closer. I won’t spit until you beg for it.

I was made to be studied and obeyed, but most of all: touched.

Not just seen, but experienced. And yes, I intend to teach you a thing or two.

Like silk caught on rough fingertips. Like leather, warm from skin. Like candlelight layered across gold, across me.

My world is built from scent and sensation: jasmine blooming in late light, cedar underfoot, the lingering salt of some earlier indulgence on my lips. I craft a life from appetite and intention, curated like a gallery, inhabited like a dream.

You may sense that I wasn’t always like this. You’d be right.

There was a time I lived in glass towers and marble lobbies. I spent the first half of my adult life in sharp heels and sharper blazers. As Oscar WIlde says, “you can never be overdressed or overeducated.” I have led global brand initiatives for a Fortune 50, negotiated public health campaigns, slipped between languages under chandeliers I had no interest in owning. I studied. I traveled. I charmed diplomats with a strategist’s tongue. It was a glittering life. But it nearly buried me.

I left the gilded cage and stepped into something wilder. Truer. More exquisite.

And now, I live by instinct and design.

I freelance—teaching statistics and finance remotely (yes, really)—and not because I have to. Because I like it. A few days a week, I tether myself to logic and language. The rest of the time, I lift heavy, stretch long, and breathe deeper. I cook slow meals. I open rare books. I whisper things into the ear of my once feral, now devoutly domesticated cat.

I’m a multidisciplinary artist drawn to sensation, story, and control. My work lives at the edge of the physical and the emotional—site-specific, time-sensitive, and often impossible to forget. Whether I’m sculpting an object or a scene, I build experiences that seduce the senses and stay smoldering in the body long after.

My art has found its way into galleries and residencies: sculptural, visceral, flame-fed. Sometimes I build shrines. But you’re here because you know I build people.

I crave starlight and mountaintops. I collect perfumes and postcards. I protect my free time fiercely and without apology.

What I offer is not a service. It’s a sovereign experience, a cultivated exchange, a private and tactile communion.

Once I give you my attention, it will ruin you for anything less.

Come correct.

Come curious.

Come when you’re ready to be changed.