I grew up off-the-grid three miles up a dirt driveway and the closest town, Oakland, Oregon, was home to 800 lovely souls. This sort of childhood lent itself to innovation and creativity; the forest became alive inside my imagination. My sister and I created entire kingdoms in those woods, and ruled them in our moss and twig crowns from atop the highest tree we dared climb. We sang songs only we knew the words to as we acted out scenes from our musicals in our mother's garden. I was a wild and free child, and as long as we were home by supper with our trusty black lab, Petie, no matter how mud-caked and bruised and scratched, we were welcomed by our parents, who never thought to worry.
It came as little surprise to myself or my family that I pursued my love of art after high school. And still less surprise when upon finishing a Fine Arts Degree with a focus in painting from the University of Oregon, I left on a three month backpacking trip through SE Asia and failed to make it home for three years. The forest I'd grown up in had grown to be an entire world that I yearned to know.
I've been hard to pin down ever since; although Bend, Oregon is now home base from where I've been creating and adventuring since 2010.
Navone is the manifestation of my memories born from sleeping in a tent down the Eastern Coast of Africa, getting hopelessly lost in the Grand Bazaar of Istanbul, darn near kidnapped by a wonderful family in India, my DIY school bus conversion here in the magical mountains of Oregon, and just about a billion other things. And most of all, it is how I keep that blackberry stained little girl inside of me smiling.
I hope you love these little bits of metal and life as much as I have.