About

I was born and raised in Japan. In high school I moved to India, where I lived for four years, and for the last four I've been in New York. Three countries, three sets of traditions, three ways of understanding what beauty is for — and I've never been able to keep them separate. I find myself weaving elements and teachings from each of them into everything I make.

My love of stones isn't only mine — it's inherited. My father is a gemologist, but he began as a chartered accountant and left that behind after moving to Japan, arriving without a word of the language and building a life around gemstones anyway. His devotion to them, and his refusal to follow the conventional path, permeates how I see the world: I've never taken the expected route as the only one, or believed a life has to be lived inside a single discipline.

I've always been an animal lover — it's one of the truest, most constant things about me. Before jewelry, I worked in animal welfare at a high-critical-care shelter in India, where I became their youngest National and Global Rehoming Coordinator. It asked a lot of me — responsibility, patience, a steady kind of care under pressure — and that care has stayed with me in everything I've done since.

I've also always been drawn to the arts — acting, singing, dancing, painting, sculpture. Whatever the form, I felt a need to dip my toe in and find out what it had to offer. The cultures I grew up in made that easy: their artistic rituals and traditions run so deep that making things never felt separate from living, and I found myself gathering elements from each and folding them into my own work.

A degree in Psychology and Performance Studies gave that instinct a foundation. It let me root my practice in the theory of brilliant minds before me — and it moved me from making pretty things that simply felt good to understanding why I make what I make, and how to create work that doesn't only matter to me, but resonates with the people around me.

All of it converges in adornment. Jewelry is where my threads meet — the materials I grew up around, the rituals I absorbed, the years spent asking why a thing moves us. I make pieces that go beneath the surface most people stop at, and hold a little meaning you can carry on the body.