The world never felt like a place I fit into. I still don’t know why the other kids on the playground stared at my sister and me like that. As a child traveling the world with my family, I struggled to be ‘normal.’ I found myself lost in the coffee-table books at home —Lindbergh, Newton, Bailey—and often sat on my parents’ laps behind the computer, watching and helping as they worked on images and layouts for their magazine.

In my search for acceptance and a sense of belonging, creating images became my way of carving out a space for myself. Over time, I’ve come to understand that I don’t need to be ‘fixed’ because I was never broken. My neurodivergence isn’t a limitation; it’s a gift. It allows me to pick up on nuances others might miss. I experience the world intensely, and that sensitivity drives my work. Image-making became my language.

I later found inspiration in female creators like Ellen von Unwerth and Nadia Lee Cohen, who built worlds where character and atmosphere take center stage. In my work, the female body plays a leading role, often framed tightly within a lens of perfection.

I’m drawn to a specific type of beauty: slim, controlled, precise. It’s an ideal I grew up with, one I still chase in my work. That pursuit is woven into my gaze, not as critique or confirmation, but as something unresolved. What I create sometimes feels like a glass slipper: delicate, shaped by its form, not meant for anyone in particular, and maybe that’s precisely why it could be for anyone, or no one.

My images are intimate, layered, playful, sometimes dark, but always open to interpretation. They blur the line between reality and fantasy, almost cinematic in their construction.

I keep almost everything in my hands: concept, creative direction, styling, location, image selection. Everything has to feel right. Not to make it perfect, but to make it real. What I create is deeply personal, but I hope you find your own way into it.