I'm an interior designer whose practice is rooted in a single question: how do the spaces we inhabit shape the way we feel? Having lived with mental illness for most of my life, I've experienced firsthand how a room can quiet the mind or quietly intensify what's already there. That experience drives everything I design.
My work sits at the intersection of interior design, biophilic principles, and mental-health research. I'm especially drawn to healthcare and healing environments — the kinds of spaces that are often built for efficiency and end up feeling clinical to the people who need them most. My senior thesis redesigned an adolescent inpatient psychiatric ward; my studio projects have pulled the same threads through co-working spaces for parents, transitional housing, airport sacred spaces, and small live-work pods.
Outside of design studio I draw, paint, embroider, and occasionally make short films — and I think of those practices as part of the same conversation. The way a piece of charcoal or a watercolor wash forces you to slow down is the same attention I want a well-designed room to ask for.