about

A man with a shaved head and beige shirt sitting at a dinner table with a birthday cupcake with a lit candle, glasses, and water glasses in front of him, in a dimly lit restaurant.
Two men in tuxedos standing in front of a glass wall, smiling.

While rebuilding Britannica School, I spent weeks embedded in classrooms across the country. In a fourth-grade classroom on the south side of Chicago, I noticed a little girl being teased by classmates because the UI of the site she was using during reading time signaled to them that she was behind.

I couldn't let that go. I brought it back to the office and shared it with everyone from content curriculum to product and engineering. That observation became a product feature — a level-switching mechanism allowing access to different reading levels without any visible change to the interface. It shipped, it fit an underserved need for students and teachers, and, at the time, was the only institutional tool with the capability.

That experience gave me a philosophy I've carried ever since: the insights that move products forward often don't live in dashboards. They live in the moments people don't think to mention. You have to get close enough to find them — and build the teams and systems that can act on what they reveal.

That lens started earlier than Britannica. I came to UX through information architecture, and that foundation in how information is structured, accessed, and experienced has shaped everything I've done since.

Outside of work, I listen to a lot of house music and take many, many silly pictures of my dog.

Close-up of a black and brown dog with a tennis ball in its mouth, indoors.