I didn’t start my career in a woodshop.

After college I worked in software development and account management, moving through a world that was fast, abstract, and always shifting. It was good work, but it never felt like my work. I found myself wanting something more honest — something I could hold in my hands, something that carried purpose.

My grandfather was a woodworker, and I grew up watching him turn raw material into something meaningful. When I stepped back and thought about the kind of life I wanted to build for myself and my family, I kept coming back to those memories: the smell of sawdust, the quiet patience, the feeling of making something real. That became my direction.

Today, my approach to woodworking is simple: be transparent, communicate openly, collaborate with intention, and build with authenticity and integrity. I believe handcrafted work shouldn’t need to shout. It should feel humble, warm, and timeless — the kind of pieces you want to touch, live with, and pass down.

I’m drawn to work that’s artisanal and unpretentious, designed with care and shaped by a deep respect for the craft. I’m obsessive about details, planning, and problem-solving, not because I want to make a point, but because I want the finished piece to feel right — to feel inevitable.

My hope is that clients feel excitement and trust when we work together. I want them to know they’re getting something well made, thoughtfully designed, and built to last. Something with a quiet presence. Something worth sharing.

This work is my way of creating meaning — truthful, tangible, and rooted in the same inspiration that started it all.