Live by the Comb, Die by the Comb
Origin Stories…
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with beach combing, however two core memories stand out…
One is at a beach somewhere on Maui; my dad was attempting to learn how to windsurf and my brother and I spent hours in the shallows with our goggles, discovering this little cove was chock-full of cat’s eyes, or operculum, the doors for turban snail shells. My dad never got the hang of windsurfing, but my brother and I made out like bandits on cat’s eyes. My mom and I made clip on earrings out of the most symmetrical sets we found. Tres chic.
Two: The Disappearing Island
We were dropped off on a small Fijian sand cay in a leaking glass-bottom boat for a snorkeling excursion. Being only 6 at the time, I tired after a while in the water and headed back to short alone. To my horror, the “island” where we had been temporarily stranded had shrunk significantly and was continuing to shrink. My mother arrived on the sand a few minutes later to discover her despondent daughter crying and exclaiming “the island is disappearing”! At first my mom was skeptical, but the fast encroaching tide soon confirmed my claim. With the pick up boat nowhere in sight, and other snorkelers returning to the same discovery, some low and medium-grade panic began to kick in. My mom and a lovely Italian woman decided to distract me (and I think themselves) from the situation by searching the shrinking circle of sand for shells. It kind of worked for a while, but we all kept nervously checking the waning perimeter and empty horizon. When the island had become comedically small and all snorkelers had returned to huddle in the center, holding their belongings above their heads to stay dry, we finally saw the little boat heading our way. About 20 minutes later, with the South Pacific Ocean lapping at our legs, we boarded the boat, some of my first ever shell booty in hand.
A Little Beach for Your Space
Nothing makes me happier than wandering a lonely beach, scanning the sand for little treasures most people miss. Over the years, my collection has grown large and unruly, and it felt both silly and sad to have these shells wasting away, mostly unseen and unappreciated. In 2025, I finally decided to do something about it.
Little Beach is a celebration of what is found on the shore, between tides, after storms, and in hidden corners. Every piece is unique, using shells and beach ephemera gathered from around the world, ranging from Australia, Denmark, Greece, Madagascar, Sri Lanka, and the US, to name a few.
Instead of organizing by species or place, most pieces come together organically and somewhat spontaneously, playing with the rhythm of color, texture, and scale, rather than a strict order. Each composition offers its own experience of the sea and of place, a little beach of its own.
Let’s Create a Little Beach Together
Do you have a jar, bag, or box of shells? Same girl, same. Want me to turn it into something you can see and celebrate every day? Drop me a line with more information and let’s collaborate!