I’ve worked in rooms where presence was a matter of career survival. Rehearsal rooms, studios, TV sets, panel interviews, drama schools. I’ve watched voices shake, crack, vanish. I’ve seen brilliant people stumble over their own names. I’ve seen people apologise before they’ve said anything.

And I’ve been one of them.

As you may have gathered by now, I coach performers from some of the biggest stages—Broadway, West End, National Theatre. I help them sound stronger, speak clearly, take up space. But under the surface, something wasn’t sitting right for nearly a decade.

I was coaching people to show up, but I was still in the process of putting myself back together. Years of being overlooked, overruled, talked over. Years of trying to stay small enough to be tolerated. I stripped away my true essence, just so I could fit into a neat little box of what I “should” be. It doesn’t matter how strong your technique or work ethic is if your confidence has been taken apart piece by piece.

So Nordviind isn’t just a business. It’s what happens when you stop trying to be impressive and meet yourself where you’re at. (And when you finally set your metalhead-self free)

The name comes from my Nordic roots. It’s a little romantic, sure, but it’s something in my bones. A pull toward stillness. Towards wildness. And I wanted something to help us return to our humanness while we embark on the work.