There’s a kind of design that doesn’t begin with software. It begins in stillness. In the quiet act of observing. In scribbles on a café napkin. In listening a little longer than expected. That’s where my process begins.

I’m drawn to the intersection of mess and meaning the space where ideas feel unformed, but full of potential. I work slowly, deliberately, chasing honesty over aesthetics, clarity over cleverness, and always leaving room for contradiction, for context, for care.

My design language is influenced as much by conversations as it is by composition. I believe that good design listens. It asks questions. And when done right, it disappears leaving only the experience behind. I find comfort in systems and delight in storytelling. I sketch with words as often as wireframes. For me, design isn’t decoration. It’s decision-making with empathy, with presence, with purpose.