Everyone Needs a Good Origin Story

I grew up in an urban playground where the Boston commuter rail doubled as my first art gallery. Every day I watched graffiti murals fly past, and to me they weren’t vandalism, they were storytelling in spray paint. After school I worked in my grandfather’s print shop, learning the old-school craft of hand-set type and ink. It taught me patience and that anything worth making is worth getting a little ink on your shirt. At night I stitched my own clothing designs and sold them out of my backpack. Looking back, it tracks. I have always lived where creativity meets hustle.

From tagging sketchbooks with graffiti ideas to tailoring a fashion line in homeroom, I was the kid who didn’t just follow trends, I made them. That mix of resourcefulness and rebellion led to my first career as a professional skateboarder. I turned a teenage skate habit into a pro gig, touring the country with my board in hand and eyes wide open. Rolling through new cities introduced me to artists, subcultures, and stories in every corner of the U.S. It was a crash course in cultural anthropology on four wheels, and I soaked up every minute of it.

My skate adventures eventually took me to Los Angeles, where I traded ollies and kickflips for sketchbooks and design gigs with major skate, surf, and snow brands. It was punk rock meets brand strategy, and I was in my element. By 20, running on ambition and caffeine, I took the leap and launched my first advertising agency in San Francisco. No safety net, just guts and a solid idea. It was baptism by fire, and it taught me how to blend street smarts with business sense, a mix I’ve carried into every venture since.

 

Through every chapter, one thing stayed the same. I’m an out gay man who learned early on the power of authenticity and empathy. Being an outsider in some spaces gave me a perspective that cuts past surface differences and goes straight to the human story. That’s what drives my passion for cultural connection and inclusive storytelling. I know what it’s like not to see yourself in the story. Over time, I built a strategic, behavioral approach to creativity. I don’t see design as just making things look good. I see it as a lever for change, a tool to create understanding, spark empathy, and transform communities. From graffiti on train tracks to campaigns in boardrooms, my life has been fueled by creativity, resourcefulness, trend-spotting, and a touch of cultural anthropology, all aimed at one purpose—using creativity to make people feel, think, and act differently for the better.

Over the last three decades, that mindset scaled. I’ve crafted brands and led campaigns for Fortune 500 companies, global destinations, healthcare systems, and cultural institutions. The work has been recognized with awards, but what matters more is impact. Changing how people see a place, a brand, a behavior, or themselves. Whether it’s a national public health initiative, a destination brand, or a company navigating its next chapter, the approach stays the same. Read the culture. Respect the audience. Tell the truth in a way people can feel.

I didn’t trade the street for the boardroom, I brought the street with me. The curiosity. The hustle. The instinct to notice what others overlook. Today, I work at the intersection of creativity, strategy, and human behavior, using storytelling as a tool to connect, challenge, and move people forward. From commuter rails to corner offices, the mission hasn’t changed. Make work that matters. Make it human. Make it last.

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