A mosaic vessel inspired by the rivers that shape us.
There are some places that teach us who we are before we have words for it.
For me, the river has always been one of those places.
I spent years guiding rafts and paddling rivers through North and South America—from the wild Nenana in Alaska to the turquoise Futaleufú in Chile—running rapids, reading currents, sleeping beneath canyon stars, and learning again and again that water has its own kind of wisdom.
The river teaches you to move with what is.
To stay awake.
To trust your instincts.
To know when to paddle hard and when to surrender to the current.
It teaches you that even after the wildest rapid, there is almost always an eddy—a quiet pocket where you can catch your breath, regroup, and begin again.
And maybe most of all, water teaches us that softness and strength are not opposites.
Water yields, bends, curves, and flows around what it cannot move.
And still, given enough time, it can carve a canyon.
This vessel was created as an homage to that wisdom.
The deep brown glass holds the color of earth and canyon walls. The broken turquoise pieces carry the color of moving water—the flashes of blue and green that appear when sunlight catches a river just right. And the soft cream grout becomes the space between them, the quiet places that allow each fragment to belong.
Like a river journey, the pieces don't follow a perfect path.
They find their way.
This piece is a reminder to:
Go with the flow.
Paddle when it is yours to paddle.
Rest when you find the eddy.
Stay soft enough to bend.
Stay strong enough to keep moving.
And trust that the river will keep showing you the way.
Because life, like water, was never meant to be held too tightly.
It was meant to move.
For the river runners, the wild hearts, and anyone learning to trust the current.
A mosaic vessel inspired by the rivers that shape us.
There are some places that teach us who we are before we have words for it.
For me, the river has always been one of those places.
I spent years guiding rafts and paddling rivers through North and South America—from the wild Nenana in Alaska to the turquoise Futaleufú in Chile—running rapids, reading currents, sleeping beneath canyon stars, and learning again and again that water has its own kind of wisdom.
The river teaches you to move with what is.
To stay awake.
To trust your instincts.
To know when to paddle hard and when to surrender to the current.
It teaches you that even after the wildest rapid, there is almost always an eddy—a quiet pocket where you can catch your breath, regroup, and begin again.
And maybe most of all, water teaches us that softness and strength are not opposites.
Water yields, bends, curves, and flows around what it cannot move.
And still, given enough time, it can carve a canyon.
This vessel was created as an homage to that wisdom.
The deep brown glass holds the color of earth and canyon walls. The broken turquoise pieces carry the color of moving water—the flashes of blue and green that appear when sunlight catches a river just right. And the soft cream grout becomes the space between them, the quiet places that allow each fragment to belong.
Like a river journey, the pieces don't follow a perfect path.
They find their way.
This piece is a reminder to:
Go with the flow.
Paddle when it is yours to paddle.
Rest when you find the eddy.
Stay soft enough to bend.
Stay strong enough to keep moving.
And trust that the river will keep showing you the way.
Because life, like water, was never meant to be held too tightly.
It was meant to move.
For the river runners, the wild hearts, and anyone learning to trust the current.