The Journey Back to Center

I burn geometry into wood – Mandalas, labyrinths, and patterns built from line, symmetry, and repetition. But the real subject of my work isn’t geometry. It’s the human journey: the ongoing process of returning to ourselves, seeing from a new place, and continuing to grow.

What the work is about

Every piece begins as a quiet conversation between intention and imperfection, structure and spontaneity, stillness and movement. I’m drawn to the idea that geometry lives everywhere – in nature, in memory, in change. Burning those forms into wood becomes both a meditative practice and a way of reframing thought: shifting attention away from fear, rumination, and expected failure, and toward possibility, connection, and love.

I keep coming back to the labyrinth, and it’s worth saying what a labyrinth actually is. A labyrinth is not a maze. A maze is built to get lost in. A labyrinth is a single path meant to be walked. It has a center, but no final stopping point. We arrive at the center again and again over a lifetime – and each time, we arrive as a different person, carrying new experience, new awareness, a deeper understanding. The path winds. It doubles back. It passes the center more than once, and each time the center looks different – not because it moved, but because we did.

Why I make it

Growth rarely comes from one dramatic moment. It comes from small choices, small adjustments, small steps taken consistently overtime. A fraction of a percent of each day can reshape who we become over months, years, a life. The same is true in the work: a slight shift in direction, in a single line, and the weight of a pattern, can transform an entire composition. I make these pieces as reminders of that – that a small change in how we think, and move can completely reshape our experience of being alive.

There’s an older idea underneath it, two – protection. Not a wall to hide behind, but something living that defends itself, something you can only hold once you learn to tune into it. Part of this practice, for me, has been learning to notice the dark without being consumed by it, to set down, causeless fears, and to change my relationship with impermanence – to stand on changing ground instead of bracing against it.

The wood

The material is part of the story. Every piece of wood carries its own history – it’s grain, it’s imperfections, it’s texture, it’s character. I don’t try to erase those qualities. I work with them. The goal is never perfection; it’s harmony between what already exists and what can become.

With my originals, every stage is mine. I start and finish each piece myself – burning the pattern, adding the color, and building the frame by hand. Nothing gets handed off. The process is slow and intentional, and that’s the point: the repetition of the patterns, the patience of the craft, the transformation of a natural material all mirror the same process we move through inside ourselves.

Prince, shirts, and other merchandise carry these designs out into the world in a more accessible form – those are produced through trusted partners, not by my hand. The one–of–a– kind originals are where the whole practice lives, start to finish

An invitation

My hope is that each piece invites you to pause, reflect, and reconnect with your own center – to find your own meaning inside the patterns.

Not because we’ve arrived.

Because we are always becoming.

“ We shall not cease from exploration/And the end of all of our exploring/Will be to arrive where we started/And know the place for the first time.“

– T. S. Eliot, Four Quartets (“Little Gidding” )

Explore-Discover-Observe-Create