Humans helping humans.

I make portraits that feel like a quiet conversation. Editorial light, real people, no filters that hide who you are.

Hands in clay since I was nineteen. I run small studio workshops and sell limited drops twice a year.

Private dinners in your home. I bring the pasta machine, the wine pairing, and stories from Bologna.

I teach the ocean before I teach the board. Twelve years, hundreds of first waves, zero ego. Bring sunscreen.

Fine-line botanical work. I sketch with you for as long as it takes, then we book.

Slow vinyasa, slower yin. I teach small groups and a few private students who keep coming back.

I've been teaching people to surf for seven years now, and honestly, watching someone catch their first wave never gets old. have spent most of my life in the water, so sharing that stoke with beginners and helping more experienced surfers refine their technique just feels natural. When I'm not in the ocean, you'll probably find me fixing up old boards or exploring new breaks up and down the coastline.

I've been shaping boards for 14 years now, and I still get excited every time I see someone paddle out on something I made for them. I work with all kinds of materials and designs because every surfer's different—what works for one person won't work for another. There's nothing quite like watching a board come to life under your hands and knowing it's going to help someone have better sessions in the water.

I've been photographing surfers and ocean life for 27 years now, and honestly, I still get excited every time I catch that perfect moment when a rider and wave become one thing. Most of my days start before dawn with a camera in a waterproof housing, waiting in the lineup or on the beach to capture what happens when people push themselves in the water. I love this work because it lets me combine my own relationship with the ocean with helping surfers see themselves in ways they've never seen before.

I've spent a century learning that the best ideas come when you stop forcing them and start listening—to people, to patterns, to that quiet voice that says "what if?" These days, I help bring new ventures to life by combining old-school patience with a genuine curiosity about what's possible. I'm drawn to founders who care more about building something meaningful than chasing the next trend.