People are starving for a witness. My work exists to remind them they’re seen by more than just their reflection.

My art began the same way most honest things do — with a life that cracked open and refused to stay quiet.

 I 've always experienced the world at a volume everyone around me seemed able to avoid. Emotions ran deeper. Beauty caught harder. The small details people walked past without noticing would stop me in my tracks. For years I thought the only way to survive a life at that intensity was to suffocate it.  Then the foundation cracked and life split wide open.

The slow restructuring of my world after surviving a narcissistic relationship — right on the heels of ending a 25 year marriage — stripped away the parts of me that had learned to stay quiet. In the middle of that wreckage, art showed up like oxygen. I hadn’t created before that. Not seriously. But suddenly everything I had been carrying had somewhere to go. What began as survival became something else entirely.

That’s when I realized something simple and devastating at the same time: People are starving for a witness. Not someone who glances at the surface and moves on. Someone who actually sees them — the cracks, the resilience, the contradictions, the parts of themselves they hide from the rest of the world — and doesn’t look away.

That belief is the spine of everything I create.

Through Season Eleven, I transform secondhand mirrors into pieces that reflect people back to themselves. I’m drawn to objects that already carry a past; scratches, imperfections, fingerprints of lives lived before. Instead of hiding those marks, I build around them. Because the truth is that perfection has never been the point. Reflection is.

Every piece begins with a story. Sometimes it’s mine. Sometimes it’s someone else’s. But the intention is always the same — to create something that makes a person pause long enough to recognize themselves again. Season Eleven exists for people who understand that beauty and damage are not opposites. That strength can live beside softness. That the cracks we try hardest to hide are often the places where our truth lives. Where flawed is perfection.

I don’t tell people what to see in my mirrors. I just create the space for them to recognize themselves. And if you ever find yourself standing in front of one of my mirrors, reflect for a moment or two. Look long enough and you might remember that you have lived, and it mattered that you were here.