...to homebase, the trailhead, the car. Everyone else has been ready to go for a while. I have been crouched beside the trail, fascinated by a feather, a tiny mushroom, a weathered shell, or I have picked up a Junebug, seen a frog or have heard a bird call and am trying to set eyes on it.
I've spent my whole life tuning into details that other people might walk right by. I've also discovered that the smallest fragments of nature often hold the most extraordinary opportunity for pattern.
I’m Claudia, the eye behind Gridsmith Studio. I’m a photographer and surface pattern designer based in Seattle, and each pattern invites a second look to see what is hidden.
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Gridsmith grew out of a lifelong habit of noticing what’s easy to overlook—the shapes, shadows, textures, and unexpected details hiding in plain sight.
Photography gives me a way to capture them. Pattern gives me a way to take them somewhere new. What begins as something spotted on a walk, in the garden, or out in the world often becomes something entirely different back in the studio.
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Owl eyes become geometry. Bones become rhythm. Familiar pieces of the natural world shift into something entirely unexpected when they're repeated, reflected, and rearranged.I love creating patterns that don't reveal themselves all at once—the kind that draw you in with color and form, then reward a closer look with the discovery of what was hiding there all along.
There’s a slightly less obvious side to all of this: I love math. I spent nearly 30 years working with budgets at Fred Hutch, buried in Excel spreadsheets, and apparently all those rows and cells stuck.
I sort bones by shape and size. I turn a year of walking into a hand-colored chart. Even my patterns are built from grids, rows, repetition, and a little bit of math.
There’s something deeply satisfying about bringing order to the chaos.

I tend to collect things, notice odd things, play with my food, and go down rabbit holes. Sometimes they become patterns. Sometimes they become books. Sometimes they become something completely pointless and delightful.

My favorite tree: a 100-year-old cedar in our backyard, complete with an owl box and a view of Mt. Rainier.

Little bones found in owl pellets, sorted into order on a snow day.

I love Halloween and have also been known to play with my food.

Too many art classes, too little time.

My studio is part workspace, part curiosity cabinet, part evidence that I have trouble throwing interesting things away.