Propose with Papercut.

Propose with this very special memento, where their answer will complete the paper-cut! Cut by me, with your beloved's name at the top. I will also cut around the YES or NO tick marks, without removing them completely, so that the chosen answer is easy to snip away! Order here.


Timelapse Video

I bought my husband (check out his amazing art here) a GoPro for Christmas, then promptly swiped it to record myself in action. Wearing the camera attached to my head I filmed the start, middle and end of the cutting process. I've edited out a lot because it turns out watching a papercut spin round and round for too long is not only a bit dull, it could also bring on mild nausea. You can see the full papercut and read the story about the commission here

Smashing the Glass Blog

If you want inspo for a Super Cool Jewish Wedding you just need to visit Smashing the Glass. As well as covering a variety of different weddings, Karen, the energy behind the site offers inspiration lists for the different suppliers/vendors you might need for your big day. She kindly included me as a ketubah designer.

The ketubah (which means “something written” in Hebrew) is an integral part of the Jewish wedding and it outlines the rights and responsibilities of the groom to the bride. The contract dates back to ancient times but it’s come a long way since then! These days ketubahs (or ketubot, the Hebrew plural) are less about the business of marriage and more about the beauty. They have come to symbolise the love and commitment of a couple, and are often beautiful creations that the couple want to display prominently in their home well after their big day is over. It serves as a tangible memento of their love and also symbolises their relationship and new stage of life together.

Becoming Beth

Illustration for Chatelaine Magazine, in the style of a old Charlotte Bronte novel. The story is a very moving one. Have a read and try not to cry.

We were four sisters — now we are three

We were inseparable, just like in Louisa May Alcott’s classic tale, Little Women. But then one of us got sick — and the storyline changed.

I have three sisters and, growing up, we used to compare ourselves to the sisters from Little Women. We all wanted to be Jo, because Jo was the strong, independent one, and none of us wanted to be Beth, because Beth gets sick and dies. We also couldn’t imagine anything more tragic than losing a sister.

The four of us had the kind of bond people marvelled at. We were close in age, yet there was never a sense of competition between us, which allowed us to feel genuinely happy for one another and to celebrate one another’s accomplishments as we became adults. We owe this to our mother, who managed to raise four girls without playing favourites. When she died of ovarian cancer at 59, we grew even closer. We were all in it together, and we knew we had something special.