I grew up in Mexico City. Moved to Boulder. Kept moving.

What I learned wasn't about the places — it was about how environments get inside people. How a city, a room, a table full of strangers shapes the way you see the world. That's been my real design education.

I started at a press, not a screen. Pantone book in hand, watching color become real. No command Z. You have to know what you want before it exists. That kind of commitment never left me.

I spent years in advertising working alongside some of the most genuinely creative minds I've encountered. That era set a bar I've been quietly chasing ever since.

I've never been signed by a professional sports team. But the thing that moves me most about elite athletes isn't the talent — it's the self-awareness. The private dedication. The refusal to accept a lower standard just because nobody's watching. That's how I try to show up.

I've moved through advertising, small design studio, startups, digital products. What I keep finding is the same thing: the work that moves people was never really about the medium. It's about whether someone lived something before they made it.

My favorite way to think about design is an 8-hour meal. You eat, close the tab, more friends arrive, the conversation shifts, something unexpected happens and suddenly everyone is alive in a way nobody planned. No brief called for that. No system produced it. Someone just cared enough about the details — the light, the wine, the right music at the right moment — to make space for something real.

That's what design means to me.