I grew up in a tiny town in the middle of an Upper Michigan forest - population: 27. Our house was one of the seven still standing from a defunct dynamite factory. As kids, we spent our days building forts in the factory ruins, scheming elaborate plots, and searching - mostly unsuccessfully - for leftover dynamite. That world of crumbling structures and endless possibility sparked my imagination early on, teaching me to see stories in the spaces left behind.

Being so remote also left me endlessly curious about life beyond my tiny town. That curiosity grew into a love for travel and illustration - drawing people, places, and moments that transport you elsewhere, yet still feel strangely familiar. Just like those factory ruins, I’m drawn to scenes that hint at untold stories, hidden wonders, and the thrill of possibility.

Then, life threw me a plot twist - cancer. With a three-year-old in tow, I faced six surgeries, chemo, radiation, and more. Needing to make sense of it all, I dove into molecular biology, reading studies and decoding statistics. What started as a coping strategy became a fascination, revealing a hidden world of intricate, almost otherworldly systems. Now, as I pursue a master’s in bioinformatics, my illustrations are evolving too - reflecting the same awe I’ve always felt for the beauty, complexity, and variety of the world, both around and within us.