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Growing up in a gallery in downtown Denver, my idea of normal was riding a tricycle with my brother from one warehouse to the next. By the time I was eight, my family's summers were marked by an annual pilgrimage to Jackson Hole. Our drive from Denver meant hours of Johnny Cash and a van packed with art. Whenever we reached the Snake River, I knew we were close to the most serene landscape my young mind had ever witnessed.
Our first stop was always Diehl Gallery, where my parents would unload countless paintings and sculptures. As a child, I saw Mariam Diehl as a kind of keeper of magic-surrounded by beautiful things and always in fabulous shoes. Her gallery introduced me to hand-cut paper birds by Claire Brewster, larger-than-life paintings by Susan Goldsmith, and my favorite sculptures by Theodore Gall, whose pieces seemed to unfold into infinite stories. Over the course of a decade, my time in Jackson Hole was defined not only by its landscape but by a deep and lasting exposure to the arts that permeated the town.
By the time I arrived at college in San Francisco, I had no intention of pursuing a career in the arts. I believed my path would lead to medical or law school-anything but a creative field. Still, my mom encouraged me to take a photography elective during my first year. That single class changed everything: it led to a graduate-level arts fellowship as a freshman and a position at Magnolia Editions. Almost overnight, I found myself immersed in the arts entirely separate from my upbringing. By 22, I was aiding with public art projects by Chuck Close and Kiki Smith, traveling for my own practice, and collaborating with California College of the Arts and the Presidio Trust on large-scale, community-engaged textile installations.
Today, my practice is grounded in academic research, a connection to water, and a deep commitment to detail and craft. Alongside my studio work, I have spent the past eight years teaching in both Colorado and Wyoming, where education has become an extension of my artistic practice. Having now exhibited internationally, with five museum exhibitions under my belt, I have begun to fully embrace my identity as an artist-a career that, in many ways, found me. When Mariam offered me the opportunity to exhibit at Diehl, I was stunned. Returning to Jackson feels like returning home. In a way, it seems the art world and Wyoming never let go of me. I now see each opportunity as a guiding light toward where I am meant to be.