About Me

I’ve spent my life making stories – and trying to understand the ones that made me.

I was born in London and started young, designing interactive educational activities for kids in a progressive Jewish youth movement where humour was currency. After studying Literature at Cambridge, I toured the UK giving workshops at schools – learning how to engage rooms full of wildly different people.

Later, travelling in South America, a rumour about an elderly Holocaust survivor living alone on an island at the end of the world led a friend and me to make a documentary to find her. This experience pulled me deeper into questions of testimony, memory, and inheritance.

I found myself drawn to my late father’s story. A Libyan Jew, he survived the Nazi concentration camps as a small child, then lived a wild, crazy life, dragging baggage he barely opened.

I have worked with stories in almost every form, editing magazines, making TV and film, creating brands and campaigns from scratch. I have spent years working with changemaking organisations on issues like climate and migration – the latter close to my heart since my father was a refugee and a migrant. Meanwhile I’ve lived in London, Paris, Tokyo, Buenos Aires, Berlin, and now Brussels – picking up languages, recipes, and some questionable life choices along the way.

Today I make performances and immersive experiences around family, identity, trauma, and what we inherit. My first show Pieces of a Man is about confronting the legacy of my father, and has toured widely across Europe and North America. And my new show Fatherload flips the lens: the agony and the ecstasy, the monotony and the joy of parenthood – and how to fuck up your own kids slightly differently.

Alongside the shows, I lead workshops where people explore their stories through storytelling and play. I’ve done this with refugees, children of Holocaust survivors, museum audiences, community groups and participants across the US and Europe – helping people look at themselves with fresh eyes, honesty, and humour.

Because I believe that when we understand the stories we inherit, we find a little more freedom to choose the ones we live by.