The Ripple Room isn’t about having answers. It’s about being willing to sit with questions. It's about showing up in pain, in confusion, in transition—and discovering you’re not alone in that.

Not everything beautiful needs to be rushed into definition—some creative work is complete simply because it was made with care.

A brief, permission-giving creative session that invited adults to rediscover how art and play belong together—messy, intuitive, and free from self-judgment.

I don’t make these for appreciation or recognition. I make them selfishly for joy.

A few days ago, I shared how an unplanned evening became twelve windows. Here's what they became when I let them show me what they wanted to be.

We followed the quiet and found ourselves at an unplanned destination.

The invitation is not to make more. It’s to look again at what you already have and might be ready to leave your hands.

On making kindness easy enough to begin—and specific enough to matter.

A quiet shift is taking shape in my work this December, and I’m beginning to understand it as a kind of homecoming.

I thought I was recording a simple lesson… but the page had something else in mind.

A first look into the making of my first 2026 Curated Collection Limited Edition offering — with process video, the deluxe prints that just arrived, and the quiet joy of hand-embellishing each piece.

A small peek at the watercolor florals I’ve been painting on the couch as I restock the Ripple Station™ this week.

A messy, funny, unexpectedly tender moment experimenting with gouache—and what it taught me about frustration, confidence, and keeping at it.

A simple five-minute idea for turning painted brayer sheets into something surprisingly elegant.

A small glimpse into the quiet, grounding hour I spent making gel plate prints as a way to come back to myself.