The clothes I made had a deeper meaning to me. Through those sweet little dresses, I crafted the childhood I dreamed my girls would have. One full of color, whimsy, and playfulness.

When someone took home one of my dresses, I wasn’t just giving them the dress - I was sharing a story. One that captured the unfettered joy of childhood, and the desire to hold onto those fleeting days. It was, by far, one of the best chapters of my life.

As with all chapters, there’s a beginning and an end. Closing the business was a devastatingly difficult decision, but ultimately the right one. Since then, I have filled my time with sculpting, painting, and (more) sewing. The art I’ve been making is just as personal as those little dresses were, but nothing has embodied a story that I felt compelled to share. That is, until now. For me, as for many, my journey with cancer is ongoing. As a dear friend put it, once you have the rug pulled out from under you, it’s hard to stop looking down. We have all experienced moments that push us to our limit; moments that require more than we think we can give. The incentive to make jewelry came from the same organic place that my children’s clothing did. I wanted something that I couldn’t find. Each piece reflects the dichotomy of feeling both courageous and weakened. It's both shadow and light. Through these designs, I am sharing a new story. One of unyielding perseverance– with the honest admission that there is a delicate vulnerability in the space where the strain wears you thin. When you look at the work, I invite you to pause in those spots of fragility, and observe the beauty in the elegant, fractured imperfections. That’s where the magic is.

Through this work, I hope to share the feeling that comes from pushing through your hardest days.

Wear it in solidarity, embrace the moment, and celebrate that your chapter is now.

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