Meet Samantha

Founder. Builder.
Slightly feral visionary behind the House of Artistry.

I went on to earn a bachelor’s in graphic design from Full Sail University, after initial studies in IT, network engineering, and general engineering — then later expanded my knowledge with studies in digital marketing to better understand how design intersects with business strategy.

I started Samantha Rachelle, my own design business, while still in college — not for accolades, but as a means to gain experience in a location that offered none. What started as curiosity became craft. Through projects like Stay Gold Dahling,  Acclimate, and Lone Wolf Society (which gives back 35% to veteran mental health btw). Through working on my own projects and helping others with their own companies,  I realized I wasn’t just building brands –– I was building life for people’s visions. A place for clients to express, to be understood, and to step into their imagination.

Now, alongside my ever-loyal creative team (Baxter and Theodore), I help founders, creatives, and coaches design brands that don’t just look good — they feel authentic.

The House of Artistry wasn’t built on brand strategy alone — it was forged in the flux of my own mind. I live with bipolar disorder, a current that runs hot and wild, then quiet and deep. At first, I tried to wrestle it into silence — designing only when the world said “now” and resting only when everything was finished. But bipolar doesn’t respect schedules; it respects truths.

So I listened.

I noticed the rhythm of my highs and lows mirrored the very work I was called to do — creation and refinement, spark and structure, lightning and lamplight. Manic clarity gave me fearless bursts — those midnight revelations that birthed Stay Gold Dahling, Acclimate, and the vision of a studio that feels more like a living story than a business.Depressive stillness taught me to slow down, polish, and ask: Does this resonate? Does it endure? Out of that duality, the House took form — populated by two spirits who, if I’m honest, are extensions of my own extremes:

• Baxter is the manic surge in living color — playlist hopping, candle-lighting, tearing layouts apart so something truer can emerge. He’s my untamed momentum on a good-brain day.

• Theodore is the grounded counterpoint — clear-eyed, meticulous, reminding us that a brand must stand when the rush subsides. He’s the discipline I learned in the military, the self-check that keeps the seesaw level.

Then…. there’s me, Samantha — walking the line between them, translating mood swings into mood boards, turning restlessness into resonance. Every surge and every ebb helps me understand founders who feel too much, dream too big, or fear they’ll never fit the mold.

Bipolar isn’t my flaw — it’s the pulse behind this place. It’s why I can hold a client’s chaos without blinking. Why I won’t ship work that feels flat. Why I believe every brand needs both spark and spine.

So if you, too, feel pulled in opposite directions — vision and doubt, excitement and overwhelm — know you’re speaking my language. The House of Artistry was built for that tension. Inside these walls, highs become breakthrough ideas. Lows become depth and polish. And together, they craft brands that breathe.

The candle is lit. The sketchbooks are open.
Whenever you’re designing a brand, a business, or something that feels bigger than you —

Welcome. The House has been expecting you.

The House of Artistry was never just a business — it was a becoming.

I started my career as an airborne mechanic with the 173rd Brigade in Italy, later returning home to work in government contracting as a tactical vehicle mechanic with BAE Systems. My world was systems, discipline, and precision — but I’ve always thought outside the box, even when I was handed a manual and told to follow it.

In truth, I didn’t always dream of design. I grew up wanting to be an inventor, inspired by Jimmy Neutron and the endless possibility of bringing ideas to life. I wanted to specialize in biomedical engineering, not for people — but for animals. I imagined a future where I could create state-of-the-art tools and recovery devices for pets, helping veterinarians heal the ones who couldn’t speak for themselves. That vision led me to intern with the VA’s biomedical department, where I learned how fix medical equipment. I didn’t want to be a disconnected engineer — I wanted to build from understanding.

But after years of theory, math, and technical execution, I hit a wall. One Christmas break, feeling exhausted and uninspired, I made a promise to myself: finish what you start. I picked up the camera I’d had since I was 17 and began telling stories through photography. I used my KitchenAid Mixer as a subject — wondering how it might feel before the holidays, prepping for memories in the making. That curiosity turned into creation. I was asked to design websites and branding for a pet sitting company, and soon found myself on a new path entirely. One person saw potential in me and suggested I pursue graphic design professionally. That single moment of belief rerouted my life.