About Anna

Anna Moochoon is a psychotherapist, writer, poet, digital artist, and lifelong student of ideas. Her work explores the meeting place of psychology, philosophy, history, art history, journalism, mythology, physics, and metaphysics, bringing together disciplines that are often kept apart.

Born in Georgia, raised in Norway, and now based in Maryland, Anna's perspective has been shaped by different cultures, languages, and traditions. With a background in cognitive psychology and psychotherapy, she is fascinated by the stories people tell, the beliefs that shape civilizations, and the timeless questions that continue to define the human experience.

She is the creator of the Elsewhere Universe, a literary world where philosophy becomes adventure, mythology meets modern thought, and imagination serves as a way of exploring reality rather than escaping it. Drawing inspiration from history, art history, literature, science, and journalism, her work encourages readers to question assumptions, connect seemingly unrelated ideas, and discover meaning through curiosity.

As a psychotherapist, Anna helps people navigate anxiety, relationships, trauma, intimacy, and life's transitions with compassion and depth. As an author and artist, she creates stories, essays, poetry, music, and visual art that invite reflection while celebrating wonder.

Across every medium, her work is guided by a simple belief: that curiosity is one of our greatest human strengths, and that understanding ourselves begins by learning to see the world from more than one perspective.

About Art 

My fascination with physics began with my grandmother.

She was a mathematician, a physicist, and a formidable teacher. Discipline was simply part of who she was, and she quietly guided much of my education while I was growing up. She expected me to learn, to think carefully, and to do my best. Looking back, I realize how much of my love for learning began with her.

Almost every evening, my brother and I would listen as she told us stories before bed. They were not fairy tales but stories about the universe. She spoke about planets, stars, gravity, and the invisible forces that shape the world around us. She made great discoveries feel like little adventures. There was Archimedes, who supposedly leapt from his bath after realizing how to solve the mystery of a king's crown. There was Galileo, who dared to argue that the Earth moves around the Sun, even when doing so came at a tremendous personal cost.

As a child, I never heard those stories as history lessons. To me, they sounded like magical journeys. The universe felt enormous and alive, filled with mysteries waiting somewhere beyond the next question. Physics slowly became part of my dream world.

That feeling has never really disappeared.

As I grew older, I found companions in the writings of Albert Einstein and David Bohm. Einstein showed me that even our deepest assumptions about reality can be questioned. Bohm gently suggested that perhaps the world is more connected than it first appears, that beneath everything we see there may be a deeper order quietly holding it all together.

Even now, when I look up at the night sky, a small part of me is still that child sitting beside her grandmother, listening to stories about stars, imagining impossible worlds, and quietly believing that the universe still has many secrets left to share.

About Art

As an art historian, I have never been interested in art merely as an object of beauty. I have always been fascinated by its quiet magic and its ability to reveal the invisible through the visible. To me, every work of art is an entry point into the psyche of its creator, a glimpse into an inner world shaped by memory, longing, joy, suffering, curiosity, and imagination.

A painting is never just pigment on canvas. It is a trace of consciousness. Every brushstroke, composition, omission, and choice carries something of the artist’s lived experience. Through art we encounter not only the worlds artists inhabited, but also the worlds they dreamed, feared, interpreted, or invented. Reality and imagination cease to be opposites; they become partners in the same creative act.

What has always captivated me is that art preserves a way of seeing. It allows us to step, however briefly, into another person’s perceptual universe - to borrow their eyes, inhabit their symbols, and experience the world through the architecture of their mind. Whether the landscape before us is real, remembered, imagined, or entirely mythical matters less than the fact that it once felt true to someone.

Perhaps that is art’s deepest magic. Across centuries, languages, and cultures, it allows one consciousness to meet another. Long after the artist is gone, their inner world continues to breathe through color, line, light, and form, waiting patiently for someone willing to look closely enough to enter.