Sometimes, a project finds you. That’s how it was with Tea, a low-budget film that would redefine my career and set me on an unexpected path. At the time, I’d been working as a high-level dog trainer, navigating the physical demands of a one-person business while dealing with the limitations of my disability, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. But an opportunity came knocking when I went back to school for behavioral psychology—a chance to design for Tea, a Campus Movie Fest short my husband and I dreamed up which, for all its simplicity, had an ambitious creative vision. Especially for a designer with no experience! I had taken a few art and photography classes about 10 years prior, but making a movie? That seemed wild.

Our team was a unique blend of misfits, friends from UNCG’s TV production program who we’d come to lovingly refer to as Bunnies. My husband, J, put the team together. With a budget barely stretching past $100, we didn’t have the luxury of elaborate resources. Instead, we had Goodwill finds, homemade snacks for a whimsical tea party, and a DIY jib crane crafted from spare parts. We were given a camera to shoot, and a laptop for editing. It was my first chance to lead in design, an exhilarating and terrifying experience that I stumbled naturally into when no one else knew what to do with the environment. The goal? Transform an ordinary living room and forest into a world that felt both familiar and surreal, a touch of Alice in Wonderland, minus the Hollywood glamour.

Challenges cropped up immediately, from creating costumes to dreaming up set design on a shoestring budget. At one point, I even dyed my cat—using a safe, vegan, and cruelty-free dye—to play the Cheshire Cat, a detail that brought just the right hint of magic to the set. Through these hurdles, I found a rhythm and a newfound belief in my creative instincts. It wasn’t long before we’d completed the film, and I earned the Production Design Jury Award for it! 

In July, the unexpected recognition took me to Los Angeles, alongside the director (who also happened to be my husband) and cinematographer, as we represented our team on a national stage. That moment of acknowledgment wasn’t just a trophy on a shelf; it was the moment I realized I had talent beyond what I’d believed. The experience solidified a thought that had been budding quietly: perhaps I was meant to bring these visual stories to life, to shift from canine behavior to capturing the hidden intricacies of human experience. My demo dog, Inigo Montoya, became my service dog.

The success of Tea was a catalyst, sparking a journey that led me to film school at UNCSA, where I would soon discover the impact of art on mental health and the nuanced interplay between color, shape, and emotion. This project became more than a design challenge—it was a mirror reflecting my resilience and creativity. It taught me that the right environment can shape perception, calm the mind, and inspire connection. This realization became a cornerstone of my purpose: to bring beauty and intricacy to spaces, inviting others to reconnect with the world’s details, one thoughtful piece at a time.