Artist.

I began my music career at the age of 12, singing and performing with a band in venues across the Southeast nearly twice a month.

By 14, I was writing my own songs, and with the cherished support of an award-winning Nashville songwriter and producer—alongside a host of incredible studio musicians—I released my first EP at 15 and a full-length album at 17. That album, Wasting Paper, is still available on streaming platforms.

At 18, after countless live performances, radio shows, and songs written, I came to realize that the music industry—especially in Nashville—was not a safe or nourishing space for a young girl. So, like any wandering minstrel with an insatiable appetite for adventure, I packed my things and set out in search of deeper, more expansive experiences.

First came my years at UCLA, where I earned a degree in Political Science with a minor in Film & TV (2015), alongside completing a Meisner-based acting conservatory program in my time spare time. Then came a handful of years of traveling out of a backpack, always chasing threads of myself and the meaning of home.

It took years of adventure to recover the young poet within, and her reemergence in my twenties was the sweetest homecoming. While her external presence had been capitalized on, sexualized, harmed, over-worked, and energetically drawn on from too young of an age, her spirit was fully in-tact. That reclamation has been a slow, sacred, and ongoing unveiling—and it's an essence I hope to bring into all of my work: to help others find their own way back home to themselves.

These days, I write poetry and essays at the guidance of my own deep connection for the collective pleasure and use it as a catalyst for the erotism of my own womanhood. This practice has been cultivated in secret, a private dance with myself. That I sometimes make public via my Substack, Decadence.

This energetic third space is my personal favorite. I’m not sure it’s something that can be captured in physical proof—or that it even belongs in a bio—but I’ll try my best.

To me, collaboration exists between all kinds of entities: thoughts, ideas, images, people, places, animals, plants, material objects, systems. It means sitting in the seat you’ve been gifted, letting your nature attune to whatever it loves most, and following where that takes you—even if the material outcome doesn’t make sense to anyone else (least of all you). It’s a dance of sprouting and entropy, all at once.

I’ve collaborated with plants as deeply as I have with people. With locations as profoundly as with animals. With ideas I’ve resisted as honestly as with modalities I’ve chosen as tools.

By engaging in this kind of relational presence—what David Whyte calls being “part of the conversation”—I’ve found myself living into some of my wildest dreams with entities the soft animal of my body loves most. These include, but are not limited to:

• Spotting a wild leopard on foot

• Living in Paris, for a time

• Visting and loving on 30+ countries other than my own

• Building a multi–six-figure business in under two years, grounded in real-life connection and zero social media presence—offering me financial stability and creative freedom

• Meeting just the right people, at just the right time, for mutual growth

• Hosting dinner parties that answered long-forgotten dreams of village life with mutual reciprocity

• Finding at least three soulmates (so far)

• Creating my dream home… a couple of times

• Experiencing the extreme luxury of being alive at very little cost

• Witnessing and celebrating the power and presence of my friends’ unique art forms change lives

• Having my cake and eating it with you—my creativity is mine and yours—it belongs to no captain of industry