There's something unsettling about watching Kony 2012 years later. The first time, it feels urgent. Watching it again, the emotional pull is still there, but so is a creeping sense of unease.

Designing for yourself is one of the hardest things you can do as a designer. There's no brief, no client to push back on, and no external deadline forcing a decision. It's just you, your taste, and a blank canvas that somehow has to represent everything you are and want to be professionally.

You’ve probably shared a post, liked a story, or reposted something that felt important. It takes seconds. But what if those small actions are part of something bigger?

For me, it didn't happen at graduation — it happened mid-semester junior year, sitting across from my first real client, sketchbook open, and realizing that everything I'd practiced in studio had prepared me for the look of that conversation, but not quite the weight of it.

Social media gets a bad reputation, and honestly, a lot of it is deserved. The endless scrolling, the comparison traps, the rabbit holes that eat up an afternoon. But I think we're too quick to write it off entirely.

Redesigning a website is rarely just about aesthetics. Behind every interface decision is a deeper question about how people think, search, and make decisions online.

After conducting heuristic evaluations and structural analysis of the Clinique website, usability testing became the most important phase of this redesign process. Up until this point, much of my critique had been analytical. Usability testing shifted the focus from assumption to observation.

Five seconds doesn’t sound like much. But online, it’s often all you get.

Some of the most valuable UX research happens long before a product is fully built, or even built at all. Wizard of Oz studies are a great example of this kind of early exploration

One of the most persistent myths about design is that strong digital products emerge fully polished from a single, inspired idea. In reality, the most effective interactive experiences are shaped gradually through iteration: a cycle of designing, testing, learning, and refining.

Most of us don’t think twice about the fonts we see every day. We scroll past them, read through them, maybe notice when something looks “cute” or “serious,” but that’s about it.

The purpose of this photo essay was to capture what a typical week on Dance Fusion feels like — not just what we do, but the moods, rhythms, and relationships that shape the experience.

When you really think about it, design isn’t just about what looks good, it’s about how people think. Every color choice, layout, and micro-interaction on a screen plays into the messy, fascinating ways our brains make decisions

As designers, our role is to move beyond functionality and aesthetics to shape how people feel—because in a world full of choices, emotion is what people remember.

Design fiction allows us to visualize tomorrow’s systems, question their implications, and craft visuals that make abstract futures tangible. In doing so, we aren’t just designing for what’s next—we’re designing what could be.

In the world of visual storytelling, it’s often the smallest things that stay with us; the flicker of light on water, the curve of a shadow, a color that feels just right. Those quiet details are what pull us in and make a moment feel alive.

At first glance, returning a shirt might not seem like the most thrilling journey to map. But that’s exactly what drew me to it. It’s such a familiar process — one nearly everyone has experienced — yet it quietly reveals a lot about how we interact with brands, navigate frustration, and form opinions about customer service.

Bringing Trailbound to life wasn’t just about designing a product—it was about crafting an experience that feels as grounded and reflective as a day on the trail itself. As I prepared to launch my hiking log journal, I wanted every marketing decision to echo the same intentionality that inspired the journal’s design.

After developing six point-of-view statements across Snapchat, Spotify, and Prime Video, I wanted to push beyond analysis and into imagination

When I first started creating Trail Bound, my hiking log journal, it was just a collection of loose ideas about how I wanted hikers to record their adventures. Over the past few weeks, those ideas have taken shape in the form of a polished, almost-complete PDF.