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My career began in 2005. It involved a steady mix of creating Flash-based websites, okay-ish corporate identities, and the occasional print design piece. I made music in my spare time with my friend who lived 400 miles away. No food was off limits and craft beer wasn’t really a thing. The game was different back then, as were creative and technical standards. And yet I loved it. I taught myself type design while my toddler slept because when I wasn’t making stuff for work I was making stuff for myself.

Thirsty to make everything, I did just that. I focused on becoming well-rounded instead of great at any one thing, which might sound worse than it actually is. It never felt like work. In my eagerness to fail I achieved something off a “success” in 2008–aside from bi-weekly paychecks that put food on my table–with an experimental one page personal website that was featured in books and design showcases...which led to dozens other people copy/pasting it, passing off my work as their own 🤦‍♂️. Twitter followers ensued.

Touch screens were just becoming a thing and no designer or developer had uttered the word “responsive”. I was broke but happy to make cool things, using public transit while listening to MP3s on an iPod Nano with a sweet scroll wheel that I could afford from a Career as a Graphic Designer (the MP3s I could afford, not the iPod which was a gift, thankfully). My plays were then uploaded to last.fm which was more important to me than any social network.

Over the next 10 years I created a party game with a woman I'd later marry. We had kids. I ran a 50 mile trail ultramarathon. Bought a house. Rebranded a brewery. Started a type foundry. Joined a makerspace. Contributed some things to Github.

2021 is halfway over and while I’ve basically quit social media I haven’t stopped paying for MP3s (hello, Bandcamp Fridays). I create more things for myself and spend as much time splitting wood as I do using Adobe® software. I try to make my family proud, including a dog that I love, and some chickens that I don’t love. My former home of Maine feels like it creeps further east daily but somehow I make it back every August and all is well. Calling these “strange times” is a huge understatement and I’m back and forth on whether “strange” is good or bad. Both, probably. I've lived in Ithaca, New York for 15 years and finally began work on a novel. I'll share it if it turns out okay, hang tight. Sign up for my newsletter if you want to hear more from me without visiting this site.