Our Story

Our Story

I’ve always been someone who makes things with my hands.

For as long as I can remember, creating has been the way I make sense of the world. I went to school for art and studied photography, but my education never really stopped there. Over the years I’ve taught myself bookbinding, linocut printing, watercolor painting, resin casting, miniature sculpture, map-making, and dozens of other crafts, often late at night, often obsessively, always because I couldn’t not learn how something was made.

I apprenticed under a well-known photographer and sculptor in New York City, and spent more than a decade working as a freelance photographer while juggling an assortment of part-time jobs. Eventually, I transitioned into a graphic design desk job, creating maps for first responders, work that combined precision, clarity, and purpose.

Like many makers, my path hasn’t been a straight line. I live with an anxiety panic disorder, and have struggled with depression since I was a teenager. Those things shaped my career in ways I didn’t always understand at the time. They slowed me down, narrowed my options, and made some doors harder to walk through. But they never took away my need to make, or my love of tools, materials, and process.

Bookbinding, especially, became a refuge. There’s something grounding about sharp blades, solid wood, clean edges, and deliberate movements. It rewards patience. It asks you to slow down. It doesn’t care how loud the world feels outside your workshop.

Everything I know about bookbinding came from others, generous craftspeople sharing their knowledge online, posting tutorials, answering questions, and keeping old skills alive simply because they believed they were worth preserving. This business exists because of that generosity.

Today, I design and make fine wooden bookbinding tools with that same spirit in mind. These tools are built to be functional, durable, and beautiful, meant to be used every day, not locked away. Each piece reflects years of learning, experimentation, and respect for the craft.

This is my way of giving back to the communities that taught me, supported me, and reminded me, again and again, that making things still matters.

Thank you for being here, and for keeping the craft alive.