I’ve never been particularly interested in designing screens.

What’s always fascinated me is the messy stuff underneath—the people, the incentives, the constraints, the strange little habits that make a product either feel inevitable or impossible. Design just happens to be the best excuse I’ve found to spend my life untangling those problems.

Every project starts the same way: assume you’re wrong.

Talk to people. Watch what they do instead of what they say. Build something quickly. Tear it apart. Repeat until the product begins to reveal what it actually wants to be.

Over the years I’ve been lucky enough to do that across industries that rarely sit still—financial infrastructure, identity, education, developer tools, mobile hardware, and decentralized systems. Sometimes as the first designer. Sometimes leading teams. Sometimes as a founder trying to keep the lights on.

I’ve learned that the work isn’t really about pixels. It’s about earning trust. Aligning a room full of engineers, researchers, executives, and customers around a shared understanding of the problem before anyone gets too attached to the solution.

I’ve spent my career taking products from blank pages to launch. Strategy, research, prototypes, design systems, user testing, shipping, doing it all over again. The details matter—they always do—but they’re only useful if everyone understands where you’re trying to go.

These days I’m building products for a world where humans and AI agents increasingly work together, where identity and trust become part of the interface instead of an afterthought.