05/22/2026
Someone recently asked me to describe myself and while most photographers have an About page (including me), this is apparently what happened.
Too Many Feelings, Not Enough Water to Float In…
Mother. Water creature. Former film industry ghost turned underwater portrait siren.
I photograph women like I’m trying to recover the parts of them the world misplaced and hand them back with better lighting.
German-born. LA-shaped.
Equal parts saltwater, poetry, grief, mascara, and existential crisis.
I make paintings that look like dreams after a nervous breakdown and write things people screenshot at 2am because they “felt too seen.”
I believe art is not decoration — it’s remembrance.
Also survival.
Also occasionally revenge.
Founder of The Curious Art of Her — a place for people who are tired of performing healing and would rather sit in the truth until it starts breathing again.
I photograph women underwater because nothing exposes you faster than silence, breath, and the inability to fake confidence while trying to negotiate with a silk dress that has chosen chaos.
Recovering people-pleaser.
Active over-feeler.
Collector of stories, shadows, strange timing, and evidence that the universe occasionally has a sense of humor.
Hopeless romantic with a persistent belief that people can still meet each other honestly somewhere — one day.
I make my own skincare, cry over watercolor blooms, romanticize roux-making, and can explain German grammar while emotionally dissociating in two languages.
Known to stare at the ocean like it personally owes me answers.
Currently rebuilding a life from the inside out with art, books, paint-stained hands, and whatever nervous system regulation I can find between coffee and collapse.
Writing a memoir called Healing Is Not for Everyone because apparently surviving wasn’t dramatic enough.
Somewhere between mystic, exhausted mother, feral artist, and lighthouse keeper.
Still soft somehow.
Still here.
