In twenty and six years, I’ve made a few wild choices.
Once, I wrote a letter to famed designer and artist James Victore. I had spent a few months idolizing his anti-bullshit approach to work, creativity, and life. At twenty years old, I drove out to Manhattan by myself on a weird vision quest. I visited his studio in Brooklyn, where he lit a fire under my ass. “Nobody is going to ask you to do anything,” he told me. Those words are seared into my mind.
Twice, I chose to jump out of an airplane flying 13,500 feet above solid ground, placing all of my faith in a parachute and a tall stranger strapped to my back. What’s infrequently mentioned in skydiving stories is the complete silence and stillness that fills the air when the pilot cuts the engines of the plane. During my first jump, I was overwhelmed by the antigravity I felt in my stomach. For my second jump, I all but yanked my tandem instructor to the plane’s door. I scream laughed throughout the sixty seconds of free fall.
Once, I packed my life into a 17-foot-long moving truck and moved to Chicago. That choice gave way to scores of adventures, dozens of interviews, and more lessons learned than I could have ever imagined.
This site section used to contain a few graphs about my education and the early years of my career experience. It was so boring. I am not.
If you’re here reading this, it’s because you’ve either been pointed towards my personal website or you’ve stumbled across it. Either way, if you’ve reached the end of this bio, you really need to reach out to me. These words only paint an eighth of my whole portrait, and I love to talk.