I believe in the magic of play, the gift of wonder, the hope of human connection. I mine for silver linings, offering a signature optimistic light to every piece I have a hand in. As a director and writer, my practice often involves a breaking down of barriers, whether they be between actor and text or experience and audience. I am fascinated by experimentation and discovery, by the renunciation of what a project or person “has” to be, and the celebration of all that they can be. 

From a very young age I was told not to make things “into a whole production.” I didn’t listen. A family dinner was never just a dinner, it was a rainforest expedition complete with a vine as a velvet rope and a gummy grub desert. Everything I ever cared about had a story attached, and if it didn’t, I would find a way to create one. Now, I hold firmly to a dedication to detail that inspires fully realized worlds, ones that start before a guest even walks through the door and stays with them long after they leave. 

I gravitate towards worlds that defy expectations, stories of whimsy, heart, humor, and young people asking big big questions. I am frequently told that my rehearsal rooms and performances remind people of when they were little, when magic was real and stories were portals to every possibility, when self doubt was just one big myth. I strive to capture that childlike abandon.