For as long as I can remember I’ve been fascinated by two things: the way people think and the way they create meaning. Marketing, if you will, and design.
My childhood experience in Southern California was graffitied with the hyper-color maximalism of the eighties. And still I emerged a minimalist at heart. I like things that are clean, simple, aesthetically terse. It’s a preference that has been heavily influenced by the likes of Swiss design, grid systems, modernist architecture, and Japanese aesthetics. Not surprisingly, I try to keep my life free of clutter, but I do have a weakness for collecting design books, both vintage and contemporary (which you can find on my bookcase, meticulously arranged by color—down to tone and tint.) If I could eat good design I would, and often do—I’m a sushi fanatic.
My interest in behavior and decision-making landed me at UCSD, where I studied Communication and Psychology. The books I enjoy nowadays are still telling of these bents—from Gladwell to Cialdini, Barthes to Toffler. I’m a sucker for science fiction flicks, particularly dystopian ones, as much for their futurism as for the thought experiments behind them.
A few years ago I set out on a whim to roam the streets of Tokyo for a spell. I was in search of inspiration and inspiration was what I found. Here was a city that vividly embodied all that I have ever loved: the vanguards of design, style, architecture, and technology—all within a metropolis done up like some kaleidoscopic science fiction utopia. I wandered wide-eyed through the streets, agape at the sheer volume of aesthetic stimulation. I may have left my proverbial heart in Tokyo, but the city still influences much of what I do today.