Albatross Art House is a boutique creative studio build around one conviction: that making beautiful things is how we reveal who we are to others. I believe creativity belongs to everyone, not jus the trained, the confident, or the already established.

This studio exists to prove it.

Creativity saved me and I don't say that lightly.

Making things, having a place to pour out what is inside, has been a lifeline in the hardest seasons of my life. Which is why I care so deeply about the people who never got to find theirs.

Albatross Art House gives back to To Write Love On Her Arms, an organization building safe spaces for teens in mental health crisis. Because when you understand what it means to need a way through, you can't not do something about it.

Some of the stats: 15% is the percentage of teens who have had a major depressive episode, 62% is the increase in teen suicide since 2007, 44% is the percentage of high school students who feel hopeless or unhappy.

This is our why.

IF YOU ARE IN CRISIS + NEED IMMEDIATE SUPPORT PLEASE CALL/TEXT 988 OR GO TO YOUR NEAREST EMERGENCY ROOM

Traveling along the Pacific Ocean on the PCH, I stared out the window with tears filling my eyes. I had just pulled off to the side of the road in a construction zone to get out briefly. My sister had just called me for the millionth time that day asking me how much longer until I was going to get to West LA from San Luis Obispo.

Silently I wept. Listening to her cry and begging me to come faster.

Tears streaming down my cheeks with little voices talking in the back seat trying to understand why we drove in silence, why mom was crying, why we were driving as fast as we could to get to my youngest sibling. The sibling that was simply waiting in her grief for me to come grieve along side of her.

I prayed for peace through the tears. I prayed for a sign that I was not forgotten. I asked Jesus for something I could see.

He sent me an albatross.

The bird flew alongside of my car for MILES as we hugged the curves of the coast.

I stared out the window, watching. Almost in disbelief. Thankful to be given such a sign of peace, of freedom, of resilience. As I was turning left towards Santa Monica, it veered right back out over the ocean.

Tears fell again. My place of comfort. The ocean. It was returning to a place I have always felt connected.

It was as if the seabird drifted off as a reminder of its steadiness. Reminding me that God was in my presences as I stepped into the house of my pops, where I fell to my knees next to my sister and said goodbye to the first man I loved, the first to ever love me. My dad - who had fought cancer most of my life. I don't know how long I knelt there with her, crying, but I knew he had fought hard and loved me deeper than anyone would ever love me. Seeing his crystal blue eyes peak slightly through his almost closed lids, all I could do was be grateful for the man who loved us so well. They had left his body laying there for me - to say goodbye - to the strongest, most gentle man I have ever known.

This seabird holds so much of this story - always a reminder that he continues to be with me. The images of birds started to be apart of my design vibe after he died as a reminder of that moment driving down the PCH.