The hardest thing for me to accept as a creative was the evolution of my garments. As my feelings changed, so did my pieces, and always before they were finished. Always an uphill battle with my feelings and my art is the aftermath of it. I have put together my first documentary of this particular piece. The leather wrap corset and everything it took in me, from me and gave me. I didn’t do it alone either. A huge thank you to the women who helped create it, you all heal my heart in ways you don’t even know.

  As it turns, I see my past in its reflection and strength in my future. It’s a strong, beautiful piece. Something that represents my dad & me. Strong and beautiful. This can mean so many different things to different people. Growing up, my dad was the epitome of a cool motherfucker. He wore a Stetson hat with red feathers and rode beautiful motorcycles. His mustache always ALWAYS groomed. Leather vest in perfect condition with buttons he made by hand — Indian head buffalo nickels he’d soldered button loops on the back of, and hand-stitched on just like his grandma