Growing up, I never really had to ask what "design" meant because I lived inside of it every day. In my house, being creative isn't just a hobby; it is the family trade. My dad spent years working in-house for big tech companies before starting his own creative studio. My mom had a long career in advertising, but then she decided to do something completely different and turned a garage across from the local school into a coffee business. It’s gone from a simple idea to the heart of our neighborhood and a total hit on Instagram.
From watching them, I learned two big lessons. First, I learned that design is serious business and hard work. Second, I saw how a good idea can build a community and give people a place to hang out. Design is just part of our lives. Even moving our family from San Francisco to Portland was a design choice; my parents looked at our lives and decided to "redesign" our environment to find a better lifestyle and a different pace for us.
As I’ve started to find my own voice, I’ve realized my interest is more about the physical side of things. While my parents mostly worked on branding and advertising, I found myself drawn to actually making stuff. I don’t just want to look at a screen; I want to feel an object in my hands. I want to know exactly how it’s held together, and I usually make it "mine" by wearing it, using it, or even breaking it apart to see how it was built. I’ve realized that I need to feel the grain of the wood, the strength of a stitch, and the weight of metal to really get how a project works. For me, design starts with making. I feel like I have a purpose when my hands are moving and I’m turning a rough idea into something real.
I really figured this out over the last four years in my high school design and construction classes. Those rooms became my quiet space—the place where the noise of high school fades away—and the center of my social life. While other kids were out on the sports field or in theater, I was at the workbench or the sewing machine (unless the snowboard team was practicing up at Mt. Hood). My closest friends are the ones I met in those classes and on the team—people who just want to make things and go snowboarding. We don't just hang out; we help each other build things.
In that shop, I learned that the best work doesn't happen alone. It happens by trying things, messing up, and getting advice from the people around you. One of the biggest things I’ve realized is that I actually learn way more from the projects that go totally sideways than the ones that are easy. When something breaks or a seam doesn't line up, you have to figure out a fix right then and there. That struggle is where I actually learn the most.
I know my portfolio is still pretty basic, but it shows how I’ve grown through this hands-on process. It’s a mix of school assignments and personal projects that kept me up late at night. One piece I’m really proud of is a pair of jeans I made for myself from scratch. To most people, pants are just something you grab out of the drawer. But to me, those jeans were a huge puzzle. Over the years, I made a few different pairs for myself and for my friends. Figuring out where a seam needs to go so you can actually move, or how the weight of the denim changes the way they look, taught me more than any book could.
That same curiosity is what led me to make the bag I carry every day and the chalk bag I use when I’m bouldering at the rock gym. There is a great feeling that comes from using something you built yourself. It’s a constant loop where I’m both the person making the gear and the person using it. Every time I put on those jeans or use that bag, I’m thinking about how to make the next version better.
I’ve tried to work with as many different materials as I can. At school, I used the lost-wax technique to cast metal rings, which is a wild process because you have to balance the liquid wax with the solid metal. I’ve looked at how light works through a hand-built paper lantern, practiced architectural drawings, and built a plant stand and glass art. My goal is always to see how I can make something look good while making sure it actually works. I’m fascinated by the idea that you can take something functional and give it a personality.
Living in Oregon, you can't help but be influenced by the big sports brands here. Growing up in Portland, you see how a brand like Nike makes a sneaker that is high-tech equipment but also looks great. It’s the same on the mountain. When I’m snowboarding, my gear has to work—it’s a safety requirement—but the way that gear is designed is also a huge part of the whole culture. I’m really interested in how textiles, fashion, and products all mesh together. I want to create things that are meant to be moved in, lived in, and used until they are completely worn out.
I’m excited to bring this "maker" attitude to the University of Oregon. I don't want a program where I just sit in a lecture hall. I want to be in the workshops, getting my hands dirty, and learning how to actually build things. I want to be in a place that respects old-school craftsmanship but is also using newer technology.
I don’t know exactly what my job title will be in ten years. Maybe a product designer or someone working in fashion tech... but I know how I’ll get there. I’ll get there by making. I’ll get there by breaking things down and sewing them back together until they’re right. I’m ready to join the community at UofO, and turn my love for building things into a career. I’m ready to stop just talking about design and start building the things I’m talking about.
From watching them, I learned two big lessons. First, I learned that design is serious business and hard work. Second, I saw how a good idea can build a community and give people a place to hang out. Design is just part of our lives. Even moving our family from San Francisco to Portland was a design choice; my parents looked at our lives and decided to "redesign" our environment to find a better lifestyle and a different pace for us.
As I’ve started to find my own voice, I’ve realized my interest is more about the physical side of things. While my parents mostly worked on branding and advertising, I found myself drawn to actually making stuff. I don’t just want to look at a screen; I want to feel an object in my hands. I want to know exactly how it’s held together, and I usually make it "mine" by wearing it, using it, or even breaking it apart to see how it was built. I’ve realized that I need to feel the grain of the wood, the strength of a stitch, and the weight of metal to really get how a project works. For me, design starts with making. I feel like I have a purpose when my hands are moving and I’m turning a rough idea into something real.
I really figured this out over the last four years in my high school design and construction classes. Those rooms became my quiet space—the place where the noise of high school fades away—and the center of my social life. While other kids were out on the sports field or in theater, I was at the workbench or the sewing machine (unless the snowboard team was practicing up at Mt. Hood). My closest friends are the ones I met in those classes and on the team—people who just want to make things and go snowboarding. We don't just hang out; we help each other build things.
In that shop, I learned that the best work doesn't happen alone. It happens by trying things, messing up, and getting advice from the people around you. One of the biggest things I’ve realized is that I actually learn way more from the projects that go totally sideways than the ones that are easy. When something breaks or a seam doesn't line up, you have to figure out a fix right then and there. That struggle is where I actually learn the most.
I know my portfolio is still pretty basic, but it shows how I’ve grown through this hands-on process. It’s a mix of school assignments and personal projects that kept me up late at night. One piece I’m really proud of is a pair of jeans I made for myself from scratch. To most people, pants are just something you grab out of the drawer. But to me, those jeans were a huge puzzle. Over the years, I made a few different pairs for myself and for my friends. Figuring out where a seam needs to go so you can actually move, or how the weight of the denim changes the way they look, taught me more than any book could.
That same curiosity is what led me to make the bag I carry every day and the chalk bag I use when I’m bouldering at the rock gym. There is a great feeling that comes from using something you built yourself. It’s a constant loop where I’m both the person making the gear and the person using it. Every time I put on those jeans or use that bag, I’m thinking about how to make the next version better.
I’ve tried to work with as many different materials as I can. At school, I used the lost-wax technique to cast metal rings, which is a wild process because you have to balance the liquid wax with the solid metal. I’ve looked at how light works through a hand-built paper lantern, practiced architectural drawings, and built a plant stand and glass art. My goal is always to see how I can make something look good while making sure it actually works. I’m fascinated by the idea that you can take something functional and give it a personality.
Living in Oregon, you can't help but be influenced by the big sports brands here. Growing up in Portland, you see how a brand like Nike makes a sneaker that is high-tech equipment but also looks great. It’s the same on the mountain. When I’m snowboarding, my gear has to work—it’s a safety requirement—but the way that gear is designed is also a huge part of the whole culture. I’m really interested in how textiles, fashion, and products all mesh together. I want to create things that are meant to be moved in, lived in, and used until they are completely worn out.
I’m excited to bring this "maker" attitude to the University of Oregon. I don't want a program where I just sit in a lecture hall. I want to be in the workshops, getting my hands dirty, and learning how to actually build things. I want to be in a place that respects old-school craftsmanship but is also using newer technology.
I don’t know exactly what my job title will be in ten years. Maybe a product designer or someone working in fashion tech... but I know how I’ll get there. I’ll get there by making. I’ll get there by breaking things down and sewing them back together until they’re right. I’m ready to join the community at UofO, and turn my love for building things into a career. I’m ready to stop just talking about design and start building the things I’m talking about.
Education
Lincoln High School
Portland, OR
Class of 2026
Portland, OR
Class of 2026