Behind the
Classroom Door
On art, the human experience, the courage to begin, and the beauty of remaining a student.
I don't walk into a classroom because I have everything figured out. I walk in because I believe there is something worth discovering together.
The Art of
Seeing Differently
I believe creativity begins long before we pick up a pencil, open a sketchbook, or place our hands in clay.
It begins with attention.
Somewhere along the way, many of us learn to look at the world without really seeing it.
We become occupied with what things are supposed to look like, how quickly we should accomplish something, and whether what we make will be good enough.
We learn to judge our abilities before we've given ourselves permission to explore them.
I want my classroom to offer another possibility. A place where we can slow down, ask questions, practice unfamiliar skills, and rediscover the value of curiosity.
I believe in the beginner's mind. In Zen practice, shoshin invites us to approach experience with openness, without assuming we already understand everything before us.
An accomplished artist can become a beginner again. Someone who has never made art can discover that unfamiliarity is not a disadvantage.
I believe mistakes deserve examination rather than embarrassment. A misplaced line might reveal movement. An unexpected color might change the direction of a painting. A story that refuses to follow its outline might reveal something about its characters.
And I believe craftsmanship matters. We study composition, color, perspective, materials, and storytelling because knowledge expands what we can express.
But beneath the techniques and materials is something even more important to me.
Art has helped me understand myself and communicate things I could not always put into words.
That experience is at the heart of why I teach.
What I Bring to the Table
My background moves between photography, illustration, writing, traditional art, and digital media.
My years in the United States Air Force taught me discipline, preparation, and attention to detail. My years as an artist have taught me that even careful plans must leave room for discovery.
But my most meaningful education has also come through my own mental health journey.
Creativity became a way to explore emotions, examine difficult experiences, and better understand the person I was becoming.
That lived experience informs the compassion, patience, and intention I bring into every classroom.
Why I Love Teaching
I know what it feels like to need a creative outlet that asks nothing of you except that you begin.
I love the moment when someone discovers a technique, a possibility, or a way of expressing something that previously felt out of reach.
I don't need students to make art that looks like mine. I want them to develop the skills and freedom to discover what their own creativity can become.
I believe learning is shared. There are times when students teach me something I didn't know, and I welcome those moments.
When Words
Were Not Enough
My relationship with art has never been only about making something beautiful.
For me, creativity has become a way to navigate my inner world.
It has helped me examine my emotions, understand my experiences, and find connections between the person I was, the person I am, and the person I am still becoming.
Over time, I began to recognize how closely creativity, psychology, memory, and personal meaning were connected in my own life.
My study of Carl Jung deepened my interest in symbolism, archetypes, and the relationship between conscious experience and the unconscious mind.
The teachings of Alan Watts and my exploration of Zen encouraged me to question habitual ways of seeing and to become more attentive to the present moment.
My own experiences with mental health care and self-reflection have also shaped the way I understand the relationship between creativity and emotional well-being.
These are different fields and traditions, and I respect their distinctions. I do not treat them as interchangeable.
But each has contributed to my personal understanding of what it means to be human.
Through art, I have found ways to revisit memories, consider relationships, explore loss, and examine the stories we carry about ourselves.
I have also found play, curiosity, and the simple pleasure of making something without knowing where it might lead.
That is the experience I hope to make possible for others. Not by asking them to follow my personal journey, but by giving them the tools and freedom to explore their own.
What I Believe
About Learning
Learn to See
Observation is a skill. We study light, shape, texture, space, and the details we might otherwise overlook.
Stay Curious
Inspired by the Zen concept of shoshin, we approach the unfamiliar with openness, even when we have years of experience.
Practice Matters
We learn techniques, understand materials, and develop practical skills that expand our creative possibilities.
Make Room for Everyone
We welcome questions, respect different ways of learning, and offer feedback without embarrassment or judgment.
Allow the Unexpected
Not every creative decision needs to work. Unexpected results can become opportunities for discovery.
Carry It Forward
We consider what we've noticed, learned, and experienced, and how that knowledge might inform our next creative step.
Art is not only something we make.
It can also be a way of understanding
the life we are living.
A Place
to Belong
I believe everyone deserves a place where they can create without fear of judgment, embarrassment, or exclusion.
This belief is not separate from my teaching philosophy. It is at the heart of it.
Throughout my years as an artist and educator, I have come to appreciate that people experience the world in remarkably different ways.
We observe differently, process information differently, communicate differently, and express ourselves through different means.
I don't see those differences as obstacles to creativity. I see them as part of what makes the creative experience so valuable.
The Inkwell Academy welcomes neurodivergent learners, individuals navigating mental health challenges, people with disabilities, beginners, experienced artists, and anyone who has ever felt that traditional learning environments weren't made with them in mind.
You do not need to explain your diagnosis, disclose your personal history, or justify the way your mind works to belong here.
Art Can Be Therapeutic
I know from my own experience that the creative process can be therapeutic and helpful.
The repetitive movement of a pencil, the tactile experience of clay, the quiet observation of light, or the process of putting an emotion into an image can offer moments of calm, reflection, and discovery.
Art can provide a meaningful outlet for experiences that may be difficult to communicate in words.
It can also be playful, surprising, frustrating, joyful, and deeply personal.
Every person's experience is different.
My workshops are art education, not clinical art therapy. They do not replace professional mental health care or promise a therapeutic outcome.
My role is to teach art, encourage creativity, and create an environment where people have room to explore.
Different Minds. Different Ways of Making.
Some students find comfort in quiet observation. Others learn best through conversation, movement, experimentation, or working alongside someone else.
There is no single correct way to participate.
I strive to provide clear demonstrations, written and visual instructions, opportunities for breaks, and different ways to engage with the work.
Reflective exercises and personal sharing are always optional.
A welcoming environment does not happen simply because a teacher declares it safe.
It requires preparation, listening, boundaries, accountability, and a willingness to change when something isn't working.
I cannot promise that every moment will be comfortable or that every creative experience will be easy.
But I can promise to take concerns seriously and continually work toward a classroom where students feel respected and supported.
Create as you are.
There is room for you here.
Five Movements
of Creative Learning
Every workshop follows a familiar rhythm. The materials and projects change, but the underlying approach remains consistent.
Arrive
Become present. Settle into the environment and prepare to learn.
Observe
Look closely. Notice relationships, details, and possibilities.
Explore
Experiment with techniques, materials, and new ideas.
Create
Apply what we've learned through hands-on creative practice.
Reflect
Recognize our progress and consider what comes next.
The Inkwell Practice is my educational framework, informed by contemplative ideas, studio instruction, and experiential learning. It is not a formal Zen training system or clinical therapeutic method.
One Philosophy.
Many Ways to Learn.
Creative Workshops
Focused, hands-on sessions that introduce artistic techniques and guide students through meaningful creative projects.
From sculpted meditation art to handmade backgrounds and art journaling, students explore, experiment, and create.
Creative Classes
Longer courses give students time to develop techniques, revisit ideas, receive feedback, and build a personal practice.
Each week builds on the last while leaving room for individual discovery.
The Digital Inkwell
Creative thinking meets practical instruction in applications such as Procreate, Adobe, and Canva.
Students learn both the software and the artistic principles behind thoughtful digital work.
Preparation Is
an Act of Respect
I take teaching seriously because I know what it means to place your trust in someone else's guidance.
Before a workshop begins, there are lesson plans, material lists, demonstrations, timing decisions, practice projects, and questions I try to anticipate.
I think about what happens if someone finishes early, needs more time, struggles with a technique, or wants to approach the project differently.
I organize because I respect the time people spend learning with me.
A thoughtful structure allows me to be more flexible when the unexpected happens.
Some lessons work beautifully. Others reveal something I need to change. I pay attention to both.
After teaching, I reflect on what students understood, where instructions could have been clearer, and how I can make the next experience better.
Prepared Instruction
Clear lessons, practiced demonstrations, organized materials, and meaningful learning objectives.
Respectful Participation
Different learning needs, thoughtful accommodations, and no pressure to share personal experiences.
Constructive Feedback
Specific, useful guidance that supports skill development without embarrassment or empty praise.
Continued Improvement
Reflection after every class, attention to student feedback, and a willingness to improve.
Still an Artist. Still a Student.
I believe becoming a teacher does not mean I have finished being a student.
There are still techniques I haven't mastered, questions I cannot immediately answer, and mornings when I have to remind myself that I belong in the classroom.
I prepare because my students deserve preparation. I continue learning because they deserve a teacher who is willing to grow.
I want my students to understand that uncertainty is not something we must hide from one another.
We can acknowledge it, investigate it, and move forward with care.
That is the kind of teacher I am working to become.
Before I Enter
the Classroom
This began as a private reflection. Something to remind myself why I teach, especially on the mornings when confidence doesn't arrive as easily as preparation. I'm sharing it because I suspect other artists and teachers know this feeling too.
A reminder to myself.
I do not have to know everything to be a good teacher.
I have spent years learning to observe, to make, to revise, and to begin again. Those years belong in this room with me.
And still, there are mornings when I am nervous.
There are moments when I question whether I know enough, whether my lesson will connect, or whether someone will ask something I cannot answer.
Experience does not always quiet those questions.
I can be an accomplished artist and still feel like a beginner. I can prepare carefully and still feel uncertain.
Being afraid does not mean I am unprepared.
It means I care about what happens in that room. But caring alone is not enough. I must do the work.
I will arrive prepared. I will know my materials, understand my lesson, and respect the time my students have given me.
I will make plans and leave room for those plans to change.
I will remember that I cannot always see what another person is carrying.
I do not need to know their story to offer them patience, kindness, and respect.
I will remember that the person struggling with a pencil may be experiencing something unfamiliar and difficult.
I will not confuse hesitation with inability.
I will demonstrate without showing off.
I will correct without humiliating.
I will encourage without offering empty praise.
When a student asks something I cannot answer, I can say, "I don't know. Let's find out."
When a project goes differently than expected, I can help investigate what happened.
When the room becomes quiet, I do not have to fill it.
And when someone in that room has more experience than I do in a particular technique, I do not have to feel threatened.
We can learn from one another. Teaching does not require pretending that knowledge travels in only one direction.
I am here to share what I know, to help others develop their skills, and to remain open to what they might teach me.
I don't need students to make art that looks like mine.
I want to help them discover what they can make.
I will remember that vulnerability is not the opposite of competence. I can acknowledge uncertainty while remaining responsible for the learning environment.
I have worked hard to be here. I am allowed to take that work seriously.
And I am allowed to enjoy it.
I, too, am still learning.
Begin again.
The Inkwell Academy
Learning with
Care and Respect
My goal is to create a welcoming, inclusive environment where students can learn artistic skills, experiment, and express themselves respectfully.
Clear expectations and thoughtful boundaries are part of making that possible.
Mindful Creativity
Some workshops include optional quiet reflection, mindful observation, and creative journaling. These are educational and recreational activities, not psychotherapy, counseling, or clinical art therapy. No particular therapeutic result is guaranteed.
Accessibility & Participation
Students are welcome to contact me before registration to discuss accessibility needs and appropriate arrangements. Participation in personal sharing and reflective exercises is optional.
Respectful Classroom Agreements
- Treat fellow students with dignity and respect.
- Offer feedback constructively, without ridicule or discrimination.
- Respect personal boundaries and the privacy of others.
- Ask permission before photographing, recording, or sharing another person's artwork or experience.
- Follow material and equipment safety instructions.
Registration & Workshop Details
Each workshop listing provides information about its intended audience, duration, materials, prerequisites, and learning goals. Registration terms, cancellation arrangements, and additional safety requirements will be communicated before enrollment.
Step Into
The Inkwell Academy
A place to learn, experiment, and discover what creativity can become in your own hands.
Explore community workshops, creative classes, digital art, writing, and opportunities to learn at your own pace.
Whether you're beginning something new or returning to a practice you love, there is always more to discover.
Explore The Inkwell Academy