Being a spatial storyteller—I am drawn to the intersection of architecture, performance, and narrative. My journey from formal architectural training to experiential and set design has been guided by a curiosity to explore how space holds memory, emotion, and meaning. I believe that design is a way of listening: to the world, to the story, and to the silences in between. Working professionally at a design studio before pursuing my masters allowed me to dive into large-scale projects that celebrated visual storytelling—music festivals, fashion shows, and cultural events. These experiences sharpened my skills in materiality, collaboration, and creative problem-solving. It was here that I first began to see how space could be both ephemeral and unforgettable—how it could serve as both frame and character. Since then, my approach to space-making has shifted significantly. I’ve learned to unlearn—letting go of fixed ideas to embrace process, experimentation, and emotional honesty. Recent experiences at CalArts, assisting on a production, designing for a student film, and now developing my own theatrical project have revealed new perspectives. I’ve come to see design not only as visual composition, but as rhythm, psychology, and presence. I’m especially interested in how temporary spaces can leave a permanent mark—how a fleeting moment on stage or screen can stay etched in someone’s memory because of the way a door creaked open, the light hit a wall, or the set breathed with the performer. To me, that is the magic of scenography. At this moment in my journey, I’m embracing the fluidity of my practice—balancing structure with emotion, planning with instinct. My goal is to continue crafting spaces that invite people to feel, to remember, and to imagine.