I own the ambiguity,
not just the artifacts.

A lot of what I know about leading design, I didn't learn at a screen. I learned it as a father, as a bandmate, and in the Montana wilderness. The way I frame problems and work with people comes from those places.

With four young children, I've learned that I can't solve every problem, and it's actually better if I don't. The harder skill is knowing when to step in and when to give the people around me room to work it out themselves. I bring that same instinct to my teams and my partners.

I love music. I've been playing drums and guitar for over 20 years now and I'm still learning. Playing in bands taught me that trust is the foundation for creativity and execution. Experimentation needs a safe atmosphere to flourish. A place where I can make mistakes and know my bandmates will tell me honestly what's working and what isn't. That trust builds confidence on stage. We see it in each other's eyes before we blast into the chorus. I work to build that same foundation with each interaction I have, and it always starts with listening.

Growing up and living in Montana, surrounded by mountains, lakes and rivers, I spend as much time as I can snowboarding, mountain biking and kayaking. I've learned the hard way when it's worth taking a risk and when it's wiser to travel a known, safe path. Weighing trade-offs is a critical piece of the product development puzzle, and I do love a good puzzle.

I see life as a wild mix of creative mediums we're constantly interacting with. The craft is in the balance, in the contrast that makes a thing work. A dish needs acid to tame its sweetness. A composition needs twinkly keys to accent and cut through. An oil painting needs a subtle glaze to marry its palette. The same is true of a product, and of a team. My work is finding the balance that makes all the pieces sing together.