Art was a big part of my life long before strategy was. I grew up drawing, writing and exploring art and computer programs before studying copywriting and art direction at OCAD. Somewhere near the end of my time there, I became more interested in the thinking behind the work. Why an idea should exist. What problem it could solve. How it might change what people think, feel or do.
After graduating, I struggled to convince people that an art background belonged in strategy. It took five years, countless certifications and a lot of persistence to get my foot in the door. Along the way, I learned to play down my creative side because I thought it made me seem less rigorous or commercial. But I never stopped making things. When I wasn’t building plans to solve problems, I was writing, painting, making music or experimenting with something new.
Over time, I realized the part of myself I’d been hiding was the thing giving me a different perspective. Art taught me to observe, feel and find meaning in small details. Strategy taught me how to give those instincts direction. They were never separate. They’ve always made each other stronger. Below is a collection of things I’ve made along the way. Take a look around.
Hope has always been a big part of my life. It’s what we hold onto when the way forward feels uncertain. In our darkest hours, when there’s little else we can do, we hope. Somehow, that hope helps us keep going.
This piece was inspired by a scene in Man of Steel where Superman explains that the symbol on his chest doesn’t stand for an S. It stands for hope. I painted him surrounded by sweeping red and blue forms, then placed the artwork inside an old school alarm clock. The clock has no hour hand and no numbers marking the hours. Only the seconds remain.
For me, it’s a reminder that hope isn’t something we have to wait for. It can be found in the moment we’re already in. The clock also has a working light that you can press and hold in the dark. It’s a small reminder that even when you can’t see what comes next, there’s still something to hold onto.
Because no matter how late it feels, there’s always time for hope.
Should you wish to purchase this piece, half of the proceeds from the sale of this piece will be donated to Covenant House to support young people experiencing homelessness and crisis.
"Echoes of the Stars: Chamber Version" is a piece I carried with me for more than 16 years. What started as a simple melody gradually evolved into a neoclassical chamber composition, brought to life with the help of talented artists and musicians.
Built around piano and strings, the piece explores distant memories that drift in and out of reach, the people and moments we can't quite hold onto, and the echoes they leave behind. It's a minimalist, reflective work that sits somewhere between nostalgia and acceptance, inviting listeners to linger with the memories they can't let go.
Marcus Aurelius has had a huge impact on my life.
The first time I really encountered his writing was in London, England. I still remember standing in a bookstore and joking with the sales associate, “Why don’t they make us read this in high school?”
Without missing a beat, he replied, “It depends what high school you went to.”
That line stuck with me almost as much as the book did. I hope more people discover Meditations, no matter what age they are. Some ideas find you exactly when you need them.
This one of a kind portrait is inspired by Marcus Aurelius and the contradictions, discipline and burdens that sit beneath Stoic philosophy.
Rendered almost entirely in black, white and grey, the piece takes the familiar image of an ancient marble bust and pulls it apart through loose lines, fractured shadows and graphic contrasts. The face sits somewhere between sculpture and illustration, with the imperfections and marks of the hand intentionally left visible.
What I find most fascinating about Marcus Aurelius is how little human nature has changed. Nearly two thousand years later, we still wrestle with many of the same problems, emotions and people dynamics. And somehow, his lessons on wisdom, discipline, mortality and resilience still give us a way to navigate them.
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