About

I didn’t come from ad school. I came from film sets.

I studied film at SCAD, graduated magna cum laude, and spent my first professional years as a wardrobe stylist on productions — dressing actors, managing costume departments, learning how story gets told through every detail that ends up on screen. That background isn’t a fun fact on my resume. It’s the reason I think about creative work the way I do.

Film taught me that every frame is a decision, every line earns its place, and production is where ideas either survive or die. I brought that into advertising and never let it go. Twelve years later, it’s still the lens.

I’m a writer who directs, not a director who occasionally writes.

Campaign lines, scripts, manifestos, brand voice, social concepts, pitch decks, UX copy — whatever language makes the idea hit harder. I’ve written for Howard Stern in his own voice (he riffed on it live), for the Crypt Keeper in his (the puns, the dread), and for a chatbot that had to feel warm, intuitive, and queer-affirming. The instrument changes. The craft doesn’t.

When I lead teams, writing is still the center of gravity. I mentor copywriters and art directors, shape campaigns from concept through production, and stay close enough to the work to catch the moment a good idea starts getting watered down.

I built an award-winning AI experience in 2016. I’ve been early to this conversation for a while.

For Netflix’s Sense8, I wrote a conversational AI chatbot that read fans’ emotions and generated a unique personal video for each of them. It hit a 90% completion rate and won a Shorty Award — and this was generative-AI storytelling three years before anyone was using that phrase. It wasn’t a stunt. It was the bigger idea hiding inside the brief.

That’s how I think about emerging tech: not as a checkbox on a job description, but as a question. What can this do that nothing else can? I pitched Mastercard into Web3 the same way — start with what artists actually need, then build the technology around it. The tools keep changing. The instinct doesn’t.

Goldman Sachs. Mastercard. CVS. Pfizer. Mercedes-Benz. Samsung. Not easy briefs. Not simple clients.

Financial services, healthcare, automotive, technology, beauty, CPG — the categories where you can’t fake it, where the language has to be precise enough for legal and human enough for the person reading it. I make complicated things sound like someone you trust is talking to you. That’s the skill that doesn’t show up on a highlight reel, but it’s the one clients keep coming back for.

I specialized in creepy, gory, violent, nerdy, and gay. I preferred to work with the lights out.

Horror, sci-fi, gaming, fashion history, comedy, improv — these aren’t interests on a resume. They’re the reason I can write a Twitch spot that doesn’t smell fake, pitch Tales from the Crypt entirely in the Crypt Keeper’s voice, or write for a gamer audience that roasts brands who show up clumsy.

Culture fluency isn’t something you add to a deck. It’s either in the room or it isn’t. I bring it.