The moment that changed everything. 

I walked into a black leopard's enclosure by mistake.

He looked at me. And he chose not to attack.

This moment rearranged everything I thought I knew about animals. 

I still assumed what most people assume: that animals run on instinct, not judgment. If a black leopard could make a decision like that, in that split second, then instinct was never the whole story.

I spent over three decades as a zookeeper and worked with chimps, elephants and tropical birds to name a few. During my time at the Dallas Zoo, I also got a chance to work with Jane Goodall on her Chimpanzoo chimp research.  

I loved the animals in a way that rearranges your whole nervous system. What I loved less was watching a system built for entertainment first and welfare second. 


Eventually I left zookeeping and went back to school and got a master's degree at Goddard College, studying art, writing, and environmental studies all at once. Nobody told me I had to pick just one, so I didn't.

My thesis included an art show called "Don't Hate the Snake," about why we love some animals and fear or harm others. 

Somewhere in that process, I coined a word: Animanity. The state of being animal. It's my shorthand for something I still believe completely, that humans aren't separate from the rest of the animal kingdom, we're just a particularly loud part of it.

Since then, I've sold paintings and photography internationally, and picked up a First Place at the National Women's Art Show and an Award for the Arts from the Academy of Women along the way. I also have a painting in the collection at the Maier Museum of Art. 

My artistic process

I'm a colorist. That means I paint in the kind of bright, saturated color that makes people stop scrolling. 

I'm also what a mentor once called a "lumper, not a splitter": I don't keep art, science, writing, and conservation in separate boxes. Never have. I still tear up over a kiwi running loose in a New Zealand forest. I will absolutely make a joke five seconds after saying something that made you cry. Both things are true at once, always.

Giving Back

I give 20% of every sale to animal welfare and conservation charities, organizations like the Sheldrick Wildlife Trust and the Jane Goodall Institute. So, buying my art is more than just buying art. It’s a small, direct way to help the animals who taught me everything in the first place. 

The story about the crow

My bond with crows began when I cared for the ʻAlalā, a Hawaiian crow now extinct in the wild, and they have followed me ever since. Crows have landed in front of my car, perched beside me in parking lots and seem to seek me out wherever I go. There is also a family of five crows who live in my yard and host aerial games with neighboring crows! My friends have said my familiar is the crow. That’s why you’ll see a crow in my paintings and in my logo. 

How my logo evolved

1. Where it all began

My painting of the ʻAlalā, the Hawaiian crow that inspired the bird at the heart of Animanity.

2. The original logo

My first logo brought together the letter A, a crow, and my love of art in one hand-drawn design.

3. A simpler design

The original concept was refined, keeping the crow and the distinctive A while creating a cleaner look.

4. Animanity TODAY

A fresh interpretation of the original idea, with the crow still at its heart. A symbol of where my journey began.

Come along

If any of this sounds like your kind of thing, the best way to keep up with me is my Substack. That's where I tell the stories that don't fit anywhere else.

Subscribe on Substack