Most products in healthcare fail at the human layer, not the mechanical one: motivation, anxiety, dignity, routine. My work starts with primary research, finds the insight everyone else stepped over, and turns it into design decisions I can defend line by line. Every case study below pairs each major decision with its because.
Fine motor rehabilitation, reframed as Ikebana.
Stroke survivors need thousands of fine motor repetitions to rewire hand function, and most of that work happens at home, unsupervised. Home programs collapse there: the standard tools are beige clinical pegboards that read as homework about disability.
The real users are overwhelmed patients and stretched-thin caregivers. Existing products serve neither.
Rehab tools don’t fail mechanically. They fail motivationally. Ikebana flower arranging already is graded fine motor therapy: reach, pinch, rotate, place, steady.
If every repetition produced something beautiful enough to keep, adherence would stop being the patient’s burden and become the product’s job.
A clay and resin concept won a Special Prize at WIRED’s Creative Hack Awards. Successive prototype generations were shaped by occupational-therapist feedback, and the current design is re-engineered for manufacturability: rubber overmolding, injection-molded sliders, magnet and weighted-fabric assembly.
A blood pressure monitor designed to stay on the table, not in the drawer.
LGBTQ+ Americans report some of the highest rates of unmet healthcare need. We didn’t start with a product. We started with why.
Months of primary research through a trauma-informed lens: LGBTQ+ patients (emerging adults, 18–35), cardiologists, primary care physicians, and health-system leaders across Penn Medicine’s LGBTQ Health program, trans resource centers, and community organizations.
“I would do it for the sake of living, but I would not do it if I didn’t need it.”Patient, on preventative screening
“At home, numbers will almost always be more accurate.”Primary care physician
We first iterated a full “healthcare at home” kit, a box system for routine self screening, then narrowed to the single highest-leverage touchpoint. One object done right beats a box of average ones.
A curated marketplace for artists, with artists.
In 2016 there was no established market where an artist could earn commissions and breathe. Representation ran through galleries, which took 50 to 70% of every sale and held the leverage that came with it.
The alternative, open marketplaces like Etsy, priced work like a craft fair, and being there could cost a serious artist their reputation.
The gap was never price. It was power and positioning. Artists didn’t need a cheaper storefront; they needed a venue with gallery credibility and none of the gallery extraction.
Buyers wanted unique commissioned work and had no reliable way to find the right artist.
Hermit was for artists, with artists: a platform built inside a community I belong to, made to bring power back to the creator.
Illness forced a pause, then a pivot. I take real pride in what we built, and I plan to return to it one day.
The discipline carried straight into Reblossom: curated trust, dignity for the end user, and power kept with the people the product serves.
Not a class project. Five years leading a live product before the commission economy existed: hiring the team, setting direction, raising the capital to keep it alive.Building the company
Primary research before pixels or plastic. Patients, clinicians, experts, and systems, seen through the lens of the people the product has to serve.
The finding everyone else stepped over: rehab tools fail on motivation; the cuff, not the clinic, is the intervention point.
Every major decision paired with its because. If I can’t defend a choice from the research, it doesn’t ship.
Clinical use, examiner findings, awards. Validation from the world, not the pitch deck.
I’m a product designer and founder working at the intersection of healthcare, craft, and daily life. I trained in art at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and in engineering, design, and business at the University of Pennsylvania (MS, Integrated Product Design). My sensibility comes from Japanese craft tradition: material first making, restraint, and objects built to be lived with.
Before founding companies I was a digital artist with international design awards and over a million digital products sold. That background shows up everywhere in my work: I believe beauty is a feature with clinical outcomes.