I turn loose ideas into clear, memorable visual systems, almost always with music playing, chasing the moment when everything goes still except the ideas.

A lot of how I think about design comes from the fictional worlds I get lost in. I first really noticed it watching Marty Supreme — from his tennis ball packaging to the brand identity of Rockwell Ink. They were completely fictional, but somehow felt familiar, believable, and new at the same time. Since then, I’ve found myself experiencing it in everyday movies/tv everywhere: from the pet products in The Secret Life of Pets, the products used by Wile E. Coyote from ACME, and the Weyland-Yutani company in the Alien Franchise. It's this kind of design that quietly make an imaginary world feel real.

That sense of familiarity and discovery has shaped my own philosophy. I like design that sits somewhere between clarity and curiosity — clear enough to understand, but with enough personality, tension, or detail to make you look twice. The best work gives you something to understand, something to feel, and something to remember.

My process starts by understanding what I’m making, what it needs to communicate, and the world it needs to live in. I look at what already exists, study what works and why, and pay attention to the subtleties that make something feel considered. Then I iterate. A lot. I get fresh eyes on the work, refine what holds up, let go of what doesn’t, and repeat. I’m rarely completely satisfied with a final design, but I’ve learned that nothing will ever be perfect. If I can stand behind the decisions, support them with what I’ve learned, and know the work is doing what it needs to do, then it’s ready to exist in the world.