My mother ran an art studio from our garage In South Africa. I was in and out of it constantly as a child. Making as a way of being.

The first being I grieved was not human. It was the great tree in our backyard, taken down in two weeks by men with chainsaws. I stood and watched and wept, witnessing what I couldn't prevent. That grief opened a quest that became part of me to understand what it means to be in relationship with the living world, and what breaks when that thread is cut.

Professionally, I've worked at the edges of what the current order will allow. Within the psychedelic industry the challenge was how to protect living lineages from the forces that wanted to own them. Later, in world of systems change, the question was: how does something genuinely new survive the system that doesn't want it to exist?