It's funny how some passions find their way back to you, no matter how long you’ve strayed from them. For me, that passion was maps. I grew up fascinated by antique maps, those beautifully hand-drawn representations of lands both real and imagined, filled with elaborate compass roses, sea creatures in the oceans, and tiny calligraphic place names that told stories of ancient civilizations and explorers. I didn’t just love looking at them—I wanted to create them.

Fast forward to university, where I chose to study urbanism. It seemed like a natural extension of my fascination with places and how people interact with them. I dove into studies of city planning, transportation networks, and the evolution of urban spaces. But something was missing. The raw, artistic, and deeply personal aspect of cartography—the kind that antique maps carried—wasn’t really present in the technical drawings and GIS maps I was working with. I still loved maps, but in a distant, analytical way.

It wasn’t until I discovered the "They Draw" website by Nate Padavick and Salli Swindell that something shifted. I had been sketching maps here and there, more artistically than the precise, utilitarian maps I had created for school. But seeing that platform—so full of creativity, personality, and joy—sparked something in me. I decided to submit one of my maps, and the experience of sharing it with a community that truly valued this kind of art made me genuinely happy. From that moment, I began to draw maps with more regularity and heart.

Now, mapmaking is an integral part of my life. It’s a way to blend my love for urban spaces, history, and travel into something tangible. 

Looking back, I think I was always meant to draw maps. Sometimes, we just need time, experience, and a little bit of wandering to find our way back to what we love most.