I suppose introductions are proper form here, but I cringe a little inside every time I type an “about me” headline if it does, in fact, apply to me. It feels simultaneously pedantic and repetitive. Does anyone really want to read these things? And if you do you probably already know more than you want to know about me (hi, Mom!). Or perhaps it’s that I have my own tepid relationship with creative “about me” sections; I want to see the worlds artist dream of and the stories they tell about themselves in those spaces far more than I want to hear the 90 second version of how they became someone who dreamed of those worlds in the first place. That comes later, to me you learn so much more about a person by seeing what they want to create first, and later finding what inspired that act of creation. So in light of that, I’ll tell you about what I love instead. Somehow that feels like an easier way to introduce myself.

*Art by Kate Roebuck. Photo by Emily Unkle.*

I’ve always been fascinated with the incredible experience of being able to travel to entirely different existences purely based off of experiencing creative output. The magic and the fantasy and the intrinsic “other worldness” of creative experiences has spoken to my soul for as long as I can remember. I think in varying ways it does that to all of us. Some of us may find diving into those worlds and reading every possible cannon and watching movies and standing in the rain to see our favorite artist more life giving than others, but I do firmly believe that the worlds we get to experience through those windows draws all of us, even if we crave different landscapes and different stories.

I wanted to build worlds for people from a very young age. The worlds that other people could dream up and share with me were so very beautiful, and I wanted desperately to be a part of sharing that with someone else. I wrote books and songs (and subsequently found out that fiction and song writing are not my strongest suites. Exactly how many books have been set in the land of “Gilead” by the way? I was immensely original), taught myself to draw, learned to play music, learned to shoot film, and spent a lot of time pouring over architectural drawings and staring at antiques for a 9 year old. It was all deeply fascinating to me, and all I wanted was to take all of those pieces and make something where someone could experience just a little magic. I was mediocre at most of it, terrible at some of it, and maybe a little ok at a few of the skills, but what mattered is that I tried everything, and took a little of it with me on the next.

As a late teen and adult I ultimately spent time as a musician, a music promoter and producer (the joy that fills a room when a crows files in to experience live music remains one of my favorite experiences), a photographer and art director, and ultimately a designer. I used to view each of those things as a side path that didn’t take me to where I was supposed to be. I view them differently now. Now I see each of the things I’ve done and tried as a grown up attempt to do the same thing I was searching for as a child: a medium by which to build a world that maybe, just for a moment, someone else can touch and experience in a way that stays with them. In that light, they’re all just different tools in the same path. We’re always free to be more than one thing, and that’s been a freeing realization.

A common critique of specifically residential design is that it’s frivolous or unnecessary. And sure, some of it is. The same can be said of any practice we have, right? Some of it is extravagant or poorly done or not to your taste. But aren’t we all still reaching for the things that make us feel something? Don’t we pass over the film we didn’t like but keep searching for one that we do? One that takes us on the experience we wanted to have? And when we find it we talk about it and revel in it and soak in an experience we enjoy. I believe that’s one of the most beautiful aspects of human nature: the insatiable drive to create and experience and soak in beauty and life no matter what version of that we’re drawn to. We’re all reaching just a little beyond the stars any chance we get.

The driving force to everything I do in my work is the hope that something I bring to life will touch someone in a way that they remember. That a home will feel like a piece of the dream an owner has always had, or that a restaurant draws visitors to create memories that last within its walls, or that an experience carves its way into your heart, or that a visual tells you a story you’ve always wanted to hear. I hope that a few of the things I’ve done have done that for someone, and I believe it’s a directional compass I can follow without questioning too deeply if I’m headed in the right direction.

So here’s to dreams, and time that lets us see in, and experiences that last lifetimes wrapped into tiny moments that we never knew would matter. And here’s to all of us creating in our own ways in any way we can find, because in one way or another we’re all making something in this life and adding our own piece to the threads.

Building a World

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