I didn’t grow up thinking I’d be an artist. But somewhere along the way, life nudged me toward a different path. I started late, but once I picked up the tools—glass cutters, clay, glazes—it was like something clicked into place that had been waiting patiently for years.

There’s something magical about the way light moves through glass, or how a lump of clay can be coaxed into a form that tells a story. My inspiration comes from the natural world—leaf patterns, wildflowers—as well as from the world of fantasy: glowing mushrooms, winged creatures, forest spirits. I like to think of my work as little windows into other realms, where imagination and nature coexist in quiet harmony.

Every piece I create is a conversation between my hands and the material. Sometimes the glass surprises me; sometimes the clay has a mind of its own. But I welcome that unpredictability. It keeps the process alive, filled with curiosity and wonder.

Pursuing this creative life later in the game has given me a deep appreciation for the journey itself. —those moments when time disappears and I’m simply in it, shaping something with my hands that didn’t exist before.