Learning to See
Learning to See
My creative life didn't begin with surface pattern design.
It began with a camera.
I received my first camera when I was ten years old, and for most of my life, I've rarely been without one. Over the years, the technology changed. Film became digital. Cameras became smaller, faster, and more capable. Lenses changed. Equipment changed.
But one thing never changed.
The way photography taught me to see.
Photographers learn to notice things that many people walk past without a second thought. The way morning light filters through a stand of trees. The texture of weathered bark. The layers of color hidden in a mountain landscape. The patterns created by leaves, stones, clouds, and shadows.
But for me, it goes even deeper than that.
I can't tell you how many times I've stood in front of a patch of wildflowers or even a cluster of weeds growing beside a trail, completely fascinated by the details. I've spent countless hours studying frost clinging to the tip of a branch, a single drop of water resting on a flower petal, or the intricate texture of bark peeling from the edge of a tree.

These are the things that capture my attention.
The small things.
The overlooked things.
The textures, patterns, colors, and details that many people pass by every day without ever noticing.
I've always been drawn to the beauty hidden in those moments.
The more I photographed nature, the more I realized that God's creation is filled with extraordinary design. Every leaf vein, every feather, every stone, every flower, and every tree contains patterns, textures, and color combinations that no human could improve upon.
I simply wanted to capture them.
Over time, that love of observing and documenting the natural world made surface pattern design feel like a natural extension of my creativity.
Photography taught me how to see those details.
Surface pattern design allows me to interpret them.

Many of my designs begin with observations gathered during walks, road trips, and outdoor adventures. A photograph may capture a moment, but a pattern allows me to explore it further—to pull apart the colors, study the textures, and transform the feeling of a place into something that can live on fabric, wallpaper, home décor, or a handmade quilt.
What began as a love for photographing nature gradually evolved into a desire to create from it.
I never gave up photography. In fact, I still love it just as much as I always have. I can still spend hours in one location photographing the same subject from different angles, waiting for the light to change or searching for a detail I hadn't noticed before.
The difference is how I use those photographs today.
Years ago, the photograph itself was often the final destination.
Now, it is frequently the beginning of the journey.

My camera has become a sketchbook of sorts—a way to collect inspiration, textures, color palettes, and visual stories that may later find their way into a pattern collection.
Photography taught me to slow down and notice.
Surface pattern design gave me a new way to share what I find.
Both continue to shape how I experience the world around me, and both remind me daily that some of the most beautiful things are often found in the details.
