I am a Georgetown-based embroiderer specializing in custom work on heritage garments, particularly waxed cotton jackets, classic shirting, and everyday pieces meant to last. My approach is rooted in precision, restraint, and the belief that personal objects should carry meaning.

My introduction to embroidery came through my work with Barbour, where I was drawn to the brand’s emphasis on tradition, durability, and quiet design. While the monogramming process offered a starting point, its limitations led me to explore the craft more deeply on my own. What began as a technical exercise quickly became something more expansive — a way to create work that feels personal, intentional, and enduring.

I was born in Nizhni Tagil, Siberia, and adopted at a young age by my father, an economist whose work took us across the United States, Latin America, and Europe. Growing up between places — including Washington, D.C., Peru, Nicaragua, Venezuela, and France — shaped an attentiveness to culture, history, and the subtle details that define them. That perspective continues to inform my work today.

I studied Philosophy, Ethics, and Russian Area Studies, later completing graduate work in international relations and economics. These disciplines taught me to think in systems — to value structure, clarity, and long-term meaning — principles that naturally translate into craft. Embroidery, for me, is not simply decoration, but a deliberate act of placement, balance, and permanence.

Today, I live and work in Georgetown with my wife, in the same home I grew up in before my travels. From this studio, I take on both commissioned work and small original pieces, each produced with care and attention to detail.

I am particularly drawn to themes of heritage, countryside life, and tradition — influences reflected in the materials I work with and the designs I create. Each piece is an opportunity to give form to something personal, whether subtle or expressive.

Embroidery offers a way to make something lasting. Not just an addition to a garment, but a mark of identity — a quiet detail that carries a story forward.