About Iski 

I’ve always been a hands-on learner — someone who needs to feel, hold, and create to understand.

​

I use my hands to paint, to bake, to write, to comfort the people I love. From childhood, I’ve been curious about everything, and that curiosity never left me. Growing up overseas as a military child, I moved more than nine times before turning twenty-two and spent the first ten years of my life abroad. I learned to adapt quickly, to observe closely, and to find home not in one place, but in the small, beautiful details of the world around me.

​

Some of my earliest memories are of wandering through Kinokuniya, a Japanese bookstore my sister and I used to visit in Bangkok. We’d sneak open the plastic covers on manga books, giggling like we were doing something daring. After math lessons at Kumon, we’d reward ourselves with Krispy Kreme donuts and a new story to take home. Even then, I loved to look — at colors, textures, people, the sky. I was the child who could spend hours outside talking to trees, balancing on roots, and collecting critters. I saw the world as alive, breathing, and full of lessons waiting to be understood.

​

As I grew up, that same curiosity followed me. I people-watched on buses in college, wandered into new cafés and art stores, and took long walks through the arboretum — one of my favorite places to sit in silence with God during my undergrad. Yet in the busyness of life, somewhere between school and expectations, I began to move too fast. I stopped noticing the little things that once filled me with awe.

​

Then came the back injury. The forced stillness was, in hindsight, a blessing in disguise, as most are. It stopped me long enough to learn to breathe again. To start baking and let myself paint again. I found myself baking three times a week, sometimes losing track of time before class, whisk in hand, flour on my sweatshirt. What began as a way to fill the quiet became my way back to God. I started praying more — not out of routine, but out of conversation and gratitude.

​

​

​

​

​

​

​​

“So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.”

​1 Corinthians 10:31 (NIV)

​

Through that season, I realized that creating for myself left me empty, but creating for Him filled me. Baking, painting, and writing became my form of worship. Every loaf, brushstroke, and word became a way to offer thanks — to glorify the One who gave me the ability to create at all.

​

Now, through Iski’s Bakehouse, I share what I make as an offering. Each recipe and story is crafted not for perfection, but with purpose — to serve, to connect, and to honor God through the work of my hands.​

 

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters."

Colossians 3:23 (NIV)

​

I’ve come to find that beauty isn’t always found in grand gestures, but in the ordinary: the sound of a whisk against a bowl, the smell of fresh-baked bread, the sun hitting trees at different parts of the day. This space is my way of capturing those moments — of inviting others into stillness, creativity, and gratitude.

​

My hope is that when you visit here, you find not just food or art, but a reminder of how good God is — that through creating, we come closer to the Creator Himself.

​

“So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him.”

Romans 12:1 (MSG)