A Season of Soil.

Vendor dielines, brainstorm sessions, client pitches, and brand guidelines were my norm. I traded all that and more for gardening gloves, dirt under my nails, irrigation lines, and countless seed packets.

For years, I built stories for brands. I worked in illustration, branding, product design, and creative strategy, shaping narratives that captured attention, stirred emotion, and moved people to action. I helped launch campaigns for Starbucks, Infiniti, Adidas—brands that thrive on perception, identity, and human connection.

But over time, the stories started to feel hollow.

A new stuffed animal, a new vehicle, a new sports bra—the excitement was real, but fleeting. Every project had a life cycle: launch, sell, repeat. I pushed for meaning in the work, asking:

  • How can this connect with people on a deeper level?

  • How can this be more than just a transaction?

  • How can this experience create something lasting?

And then, the harder question emerged:
Can I create something that truly matters?

The answer—the real, honest answer—was no.

We were designing for planned obsolescence, fueling an endless loop of want and waste. We were telling stories, but they weren’t always ones that needed to be told. I saw the patterns. I saw the excess. And I realized—I was part of it.

So I stopped.

I turned my focus to something tangible: food systems, agriculture, food security, and clean water access. These weren’t just topics; they were fundamental to human connection, to life itself. The culture of growing, sharing, and nourishing is one of the oldest and most essential forms of storytelling we have. So, I quit my art director job and ran toward the nearest farm. Literally.

I immersed myself in soil health, crop cycles, mycelium networks, and regenerative growing practices. I saw how a global pandemic upended food production and supply chains. I witnessed how communities connect, struggle, and persevere through food, and how, despite our abundance, we still waste 35% of our nutrient-dense produce (source: USDA | Food Waste).

So, what now?

I went from Fortune 500 to farm life. Now, I’m looking for something that bridges these worlds—a space where creativity isn’t just about selling, but about solving.

I want to build stories that resonate beyond the moment, that leave something behind. I want to use design, strategy, and storytelling to create systems, experiences, and solutions that connect people to purpose. I want to work with teams that challenge norms, shift perspectives, and engage in work that actually moves the needle.

My path is unconventional, and I embrace that. The decisions I’ve made—the radical shift in my career—they weren’t about abandoning storytelling; they were about finding a better story to tell.

If this resonates with you, let’s talk. I’d love to explore how we can build something meaningful together.