About Jessica
Reality is not the enemy of possibility.
I’ve never been particularly interested in whether something is possible. I’m interested in how it can be possible given existing constraints. But first, I want to understand those constraints in extraordinary detail.
I want to know what’s actually happening—not what’s supposed to be happening, what everyone has agreed is happening, or what would be more comfortable to believe. I’m interested in the assumptions nobody questions, the incentives nobody discusses, and the seemingly insignificant details that quietly govern enormous outcomes.
Sometimes that makes people uncomfortable. We become invested in our explanations of the world, even when those explanations prevent us from changing it. But ignoring an unpleasant reality doesn’t diminish its influence. Because if we don’t look into the darkness, the darkness takes over.
I don’t find reality discouraging. I find it useful. Every constraint we understand gives us something to work with. And often, the closer we look, the more possibilities emerge.
The outcome determines the tools.
I’ve accumulated an unusual collection of skills.
I can paint, write, photograph, design, teach, persuade, organize, build, and hot mud a wall.
I’ve been a wrangler, a colt rider, a business owner, an artist, and a communications director. I’ve worked with ranchers, conservationists, educators, and organizations trying to accomplish things that matter.
I don’t consider these separate identities. They’re different capabilities I’ve developed in service of things I wanted to accomplish.
I’m not attached to a methodology, a discipline, or a prescribed way of solving problems. Sometimes the answer is research. Sometimes it’s communication, an alteration to the physical environment, or a completely different understanding of human behavior.
Sometimes it requires learning something I don’t yet know how to do.
I begin with the desired outcome and work backward, looking for a way to make it possible within the conditions that actually exist.
Beauty changes us.
I believe the spaces we inhabit, the objects we use, and the art we surround ourselves with shape our experience of the world.
Beauty isn’t merely decorative. It has the power to change how we feel, what we notice, and what we value.
My Western watercolor paintings are an expression of that belief.
I want to preserve something of the American West—not simply its landscapes and livestock, but its grit, sweat, drama, and spirit. I want people to bring that experience into their homes. To feel something of the West every time they encounter a painting.
My work has been exhibited nationally, received multiple awards, and I was selected as the official poster artist for the 2010 Grand National Rodeo at the Cow Palace.
The same conviction extends beyond art. The environments we create influence the people who inhabit them. A well-designed space can make work easier, behavior more intuitive, and everyday life more satisfying.
What we surround ourselves with matters.
What I’m exploring now
As Communications Director for California Rangeland Trust, I worked to communicate the ecological, agricultural, and cultural importance of working ranchlands. That experience deepened my interest in how people construct meaning—and why the same information can produce entirely different responses depending on what people already believe.
It reinforced something I’ve encountered repeatedly: providing more information doesn’t necessarily create understanding, and understanding doesn’t necessarily change behavior.
Today, I’m bringing these interests together through independent work in research, systems, strategy, and design.
I’m drawn to situations where substantial effort produces disappointing results, where conventional explanations seem inadequate, or where people sense that something better should be possible but cannot yet see how.
My Work explores problems I’ve encountered and the thinking behind my approach to them.
My Field Notes are observations and ideas from everyday life—small encounters that reveal larger questions about how we live, think, and create.
I believe we often accept impossibility long before we’ve understood what’s actually standing in our way.
Reality is not the enemy of possibility. It’s the material from which possibility must be constructed.