Monday's child is fair of face. Tuesday's child is full of grace. Wednesday's child is full of woe.

Thursday's Child Has Far to Go.

To most of the world this city is an escape, saturated with novelty and endless spectacles. It’s in the shadow of these blinding lights that my life has unfolded. I may be from it, in it, yet somehow I’ll never be of it. I’m home anywhere I can be alone. But if I’m obligated to keep company, I’m glad it’s these mountains that surround me and the bright blue sky above me. It’s not the attractions that I connect with. It’s the memories of every day life in the early 90s that score direct hits on my being. It’s the mix of grittiness and character that intersect like Maryland Parkway and Twain. It’s running errands and paying bills with my mom in the blistering heat in the days before autopay was a thing. It’s casino days at Wet N’ Wild and birthday parties at Pistol Pete’s Pizza. These memories transcend their long demolished physical spaces. It’s this transiency that has led me to appreciate the moment knowing it’s always dissipating. In this pre-connected time, so much of our lives revolved around a wooden box in the living room. My earliest memories begin at the peak of analog and the birth of the digital era. Much like a random interstitial presents itself for a split second while channel surfing, fragments of my consciousness reveal themselves in fleeting glimpses. Growing up in North Las Vegas these commercials provided a window of an aspirational existence - a better life that was attainable if I applied myself. At no point did I let socioeconomic realities sober me up. I knew a better life was out there, and I knew it was there for anyone who was willing to work for it. Within the American Dream lies the Las Vegas Dream. To see your parents work the back of the house and the front line so that one day you could be upstairs conceiving ways to attract an audience. Their hard labor beget the mental labor of my creativity and imagination. They helped build it. I grew up to sell it. Through everything this community and it’s diverse offerings were more than enough to help me find develop my true passion in life. For that I will always be in debt to it, and I will always take pride in calling it my home. I’ve always believed that more than just a collection of work, a designer‘s portfolio should tell the story behind the creator. Subjectively, I’ve always appreciated stories that reveal themselves indirectly, with mild effort from interested parties. It’s through the connective fabric that holds these galleries together that I’ve decided to try and piece together something of an origin story. Not of the person, but of the inspiration and passion that drives the person.