The body remembers what the mind tries to forget.

Market Street, San Francisco, 1992. Performance piece: Job Security — folding the Yellow Pages, one page at a time, into 'Products from Meditation.' The work that preceded this one.

My path to bodywork has been anything but straight — and I mean that in every sense. Massage found me in the 1990s, before twenty years of fine art, sculpture, and teaching. Retirement came in 2021, and the pandemic drew me back to what I'd always known: that the body holds more wisdom than we give it credit for.

I'm especially drawn to those who have felt unseen — veterans navigating the long aftermath of service, LGBTQ+ and gender-diverse people seeking a space where their body is met without assumption, and the over-scheduled humans of this city whose minds are endlessly demanded of, and whose bodies quietly wait to be remembered. Whatever brings you here, the goal is the same: to feel at home in yourself. Every session begins with listening.

You are welcome to explore my life in art and education at studioc2.squarespace.com