On the Cusp of Something New
I am standing on the edge of creating a new body of work.
It has been a long time coming.
When I launched my debut collection a year and a half ago, I imagined I would immediately begin dreaming up the next one. Instead, I found myself wearing an entirely different set of hats.
Building a business requires extraordinary focus. You learn to become a marketer, photographer, bookkeeper, website designer, shipping department, salesperson, event planner, and studio manager. You learn to speak confidently about your work, refine your brand, listen deeply to your customers, and build systems that allow creativity to grow into something sustainable.
It has been one of the most rewarding seasons of my life. And yet, quietly, another part of me has been waiting.
Lately I've been feeling a pull back toward pure creativity that is impossible to ignore. For the first time in a long while, I'm giving myself permission to gently set those entrepreneurial hats aside and simply make art again.
I'll admit something. I'm scared. Not because I don't have ideas. Because I'm not entirely sure what I'm made of as a designer.
I'm afraid I'll hold myself back. That somewhere along the way, practicality will become louder than curiosity. That I'll design what I already know how to make instead of following a vision that feels just beyond my current capabilities.
Creating a second collection feels very different from creating a first.
The first asks, Can I do this?
The second asks, Who am I?
Lately, inspiration has been finding me in unexpected places. I've been spending time in my home state of California, completely captivated by the sculptural forms of its landscape. The twisting trunks of juniper trees seem to dance with effortless movement, while monumental agaves command attention with broad, architectural leaves that reach confidently toward the sky.

I find myself studying their curves, their rhythm, the tension between strength and grace. They feel expressive without apology.
I can't stop thinking about them.
In a few weeks, I'll head back to California with my wax kit for a self-made artist retreat. No schedule. No agenda beyond making. Just space to explore.
I don't know exactly what this next collection will become, and perhaps that's exactly as it should be.
Maybe a new body of work isn't about proving what you're capable of. Maybe it's about discovering it.
I'm looking forward to bringing you along as this next chapter begins.
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