Music was my first language.
I began playing violin as a child and grew up immersed in the world of classical music. I studied with remarkable teachers, performed in orchestras and chamber ensembles, and learned to understand the world through sound long before I had the words for many of the things I was feeling. Today, my work spans contemporary classical music, composition, music production, filmmaking, and visual storytelling, creating immersive audiovisual works that invite listeners to reconsider familiar stories from new vantage points.
At the same time, I was drawn to questions that extended beyond the concert hall. For more than a decade, I worked in criminal justice reform and broader social justice advocacy, helping lead efforts to reduce incarceration, expand alternatives to detention, and advance more equitable public policy. It was meaningful work that placed me in constant conversation with systems: how they are built, who they serve, what they conceal, and how difficult they can be to change.
Presenting data, facilitating dialogue, and helping build consensus around evidence-based criminal justice policy. Pictured here testifying before a Massachusetts legislative committee at the Massachusetts State House in Boston.
News coverage from the Bismarck Tribune after presenting research and policy recommendations to lawmakers, agency leaders, and public stakeholders .
Music traveled with me wherever policy work took me. Hotel rooms became practice studios, and a laptop became a makeshift music stand between meetings and legislative hearings.
Throughout those years, music remained a parallel current. I continued performing, composing, producing, recording, and collaborating, often finding that the questions animating my advocacy work were not so different from the questions emerging in my art. Again and again, I returned to the same themes: memory, history, perception, belonging, loss, hope, and the stories people tell to make sense of the world around them.
I return to wild places not simply for inspiration, but for perspective. They remind me that every story unfolds within something much larger than itself.
Today my creative practice lives at the intersection of contemporary classical music, independent music production, film, movement, and visual art. Some projects begin with a violin. Others begin with a landscape, a question, or an image I can't quite let go of. Working across composition, performance, arranging, recording, sound design, engineering, and filmmaking, I am interested in creating immersive spaces for inquiry—places where inherited narratives can be revisited, certainty gives way to curiosity, and familiar works are experienced anew.
Alongside my interdisciplinary practice, I continue to perform as a violinist in both classical and contemporary settings. Over the years I have appeared with ensembles including the Charlottesville Symphony, the Puget Sound Symphony Orchestra, and the Seattle Rock Orchestra, while also performing, recording, and touring with indie bands and cross-genre collaborations including Glass Heart String Choir. My original music has received recognition from the International Songwriting Competition, the International Acoustic Music Awards, and the One World Music Awards, and I am a voting member of the Recording Academy.
My musical life has always moved between worlds—classical performance, independent music, collaboration, recording, and live performance. Each continues to shape how I listen, create, and tell stories today.
My current work centers on Water Remembers, a four-part audiovisual series that pairs canonical classical repertoire with newly composed reflections through immersive recordings and cinematic films. Across the project, music, landscape, and visual storytelling become interconnected ways of exploring memory, perception, and collective change.
These days, I make my home in California's Coachella Valley, where the desert has become an unexpected collaborator. The landscape's vastness, silence, and geological timescales continually remind me how small a single life is—and how connected we are to forces much larger than ourselves.
If there is a common thread running through everything I create, it is a belief that understanding rarely arrives all at once. More often, it emerges through layers, revisions, and returns. Through listening. Through paying attention. Through the willingness to look again.
