meet Jess
I’ve spent years trying to figure out how all the pieces fit together, the artist, the ritualist, the photographer, the traveler, the caretaker, the woman endlessly curious about the old ways and the places that came before us.
Eventually, I realized they were never supposed to be separate.
This is where they meet.
My work lives somewhere between backstage and the open road; between music, ritual, creativity, care, and the stories we collect along the way.
After more than a decade working in the world of skincare and hands on care, my work began finding its way backstage. I started caring for musicians before they stepped beneath the lights; creating a moment of stillness in an environment built around noise, movement, adrenaline, and performance.
And something clicked.
I wasn’t interested in creating another traditional wellness experience. I wanted to care for the people who create. The ones living out of a suitcase, standing beneath stage lights, making something from nothing, and giving pieces of themselves to an audience night after night.
At the same time, my own life was pulling me deeper into ritual, ancestry, travel, breath, sound, divination, and old practices humans have used to mark transition, seek direction, release what has passed, and return to themselves.
So I stopped trying to make those worlds separate.
Artist Care takes me backstage, into rehearsal spaces, studios, venues, and life on the road; providing individualized care around the person rather than a predetermined menu.
Ritual is where I explore transformation through experiences such as The Temper, The Verse, The Resonance, and Heavy Metal Breathwork; drawing from breath, sound, symbolism, elemental practices, divination, and the traditions that continue to fascinate and inspire my work.
And Photography is how I document it all.
Because I’ve realized that ritual doesnt only happen around an altar; it’s in the quiet before someone walks on stage, it’s in the first note of a song, it’s in fire and ice, it’s in a rune falling to the table, it’s in clearing out what you’ve outgrown, it’s in boarding the plane, taking the photograph, standing somewhere you’ve never been, and realizing you’re not the same person who left home.
I don’t want this space to tell you how to live. I want it to remind you to pay attention while you’re living it.
To create, to explore, to question, to care for yourself and the people around you, to leave behind what no longer belongs, to follow whatever keeps pulling you forward.
This isn’t about escaping your life to find ritual.
Your life IS the ritual.