About Me

I’ve spent much of my life drawn to the things that resist being fully explained: the mystery of another person, the beauty of ordinary objects, the way a piece of classical music can quiet the busy mind and open it to something wider. Following that pull has given me a life shaped less by labels than by a direction. Photography, design, art, literature, philosophy and contemplative practice have each become a way for me to attend to the extraordinary fact of being here.

I was born in Bonn, Germany, to a British father and a Vietnamese mother. Somewhere in the meeting of these different worlds, my inheritance became less a fixed sense of belonging than a freedom to move between different ways of seeing and loving the world.

For the past decade, I've worked as a photographer, writer, designer, and creative director in the worlds of hospitality, climate, and culture. More recently, I've been devoting myself to Authentique, a celebration of Vietnamese craftsmanship and the sacred beauty of things that have been made thoughtfully and by hand. I am always drawn to work in which sensitivity itself becomes tangible: in the quality of a material, the composition of an image, or the intimacy between an object and the person who lives with it.

Alongside my visual practice, I am writing a book about emptiness and sensitivity, the places where metaphysics and art meet the living world. My intellectual affections wander through Buddhist philosophy, Daoism, phenomenology, consciousness, Eros, depth psychology, aesthetics and the poetic imagination. My contemplative practice draws from both Zen and Gnostic mysticism; traditions that, in their different ways, invite a more immediate encounter with Mystery.

Increasingly, I find that the questions which move me most are not those that invite final answers, but those that deepen our capacity to see. How might we meet another person without losing sight of the spark of the divine within them? What does truth, goodness and beauty ask of us? How might we recover a sense of belonging to the more-than-human world? And how might our ways of making, loving and living become an expression of that belonging?

Through everything runs something I have come to think of as a devotion to sensitivity: the willingness to be changed by what we encounter, to make room for astonishment, complexity, and the irreducible particularity of things.

I hope, through whatever I make or write, to contribute something to that openness. To create things that invite us to linger, to look again. And perhaps to discover a little more of how inexhaustibly beautiful this world can be.