June 5, 2025. I turned 38 today.
Thank you to everyone who reached out, sent a message, called, or took a moment to say happy birthday. It genuinely meant a lot to me. As I get older, I find myself appreciating those moments of connection more and more.
This past year has felt heavy in a lot of ways. Personally, professionally, politically — it feels like many of us are carrying around a constant sense of uncertainty. I don’t think I’m alone in feeling exhausted by the pace of everything. It has also been difficult watching the ongoing pressure placed on democracy, public discourse, and our ability to simply listen to one another with empathy.
Through all of it, I’ve stayed immersed in design work. Scenic design continues to be the thing that grounds me creatively. Some days the work feels exhilarating — the kind of collaboration that reminds you exactly why you became an artist in the first place. Other days it can feel overwhelming, frustrating, or creatively draining. I think most artists live somewhere between those two realities more often than people realize.
Lately, social media keeps pushing this idea that the answer to burnout is disappearance. Vanish for a month. Rebrand yourself. Reinvent everything. Return as a new person with a new aesthetic and a new strategy.
I understand why that idea appeals to people, but honestly, I’m tired of treating life like a marketing campaign.
I don’t really want to reinvent myself. I want to become more myself.
That feels different.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become less interested in performing a version of authenticity and more interested in actually practicing it. I want the work I make, the collaborations I build, and the relationships I maintain to come from a place that is honest and grounded. Not curated perfection. Not algorithmic performance. Just sincerity.
Theatre has always taught me that audiences respond most strongly to truth. Not polish. Not spectacle alone. Truth. The same thing applies to people.
Life is already difficult enough. Most people are carrying something invisible. A disappointment. A fear. Financial stress. Loneliness. Anxiety about the future. Grief. We do not always know what someone else is navigating when they walk into a room.
So maybe the challenge is not reinvention.
Maybe the challenge is grace.
To be kinder to one another. To stay curious about people instead of immediately reducing them to labels or assumptions. To create art that asks questions instead of simply shouting answers. To allow ourselves to evolve without constantly branding every evolution as a transformation arc.
At 38, I do not feel finished. I do not feel fully formed. In many ways, I feel more aware of how much there still is to learn — about art, collaboration, relationships, and myself.
But I do know this:
- I still believe in storytelling.
- I still believe in creativity.
- I still believe authenticity matters.
Here’s to authenticity.
Here’s to grace.
