I design the parts people actually touch — the grip, the trigger, the seam — and I test them the way a mechanic tests a wrench: by using it until something fails.
I'm mechanically inclined before I'm anything else — I grew up taking things apart to see how the torque got from one part to the next, and that instinct still runs every project I design. Working with Ingersoll Rand didn't feel like a departure from that; it felt like the first project that let me use it properly.
Alongside studio work, I've spent three years at QuickChek, which taught me a duller but equally important skill: showing up reliably, handling people under pressure, and learning new systems fast. Between the two, I've ended up with a strange but useful pairing — CAD fluency and a genuine comfort with hand tools.
Outside client work, I design personal concepts end to end: user research, competitive teardown, sketch iteration, foam and SLA models, final CMF. I'd rather ship an honest, working idea than a polished one that skips the ugly middle.
Different problem every time — a wrench, a hair dryer, a watch, a water bottle — but the same five moves get it from a question to something you can hold:
A cordless impact wrench redesigned around the mechanics who actually swing it.
A design-first partnership between Ingersoll Rand and Montclair State's industrial design studio, spent redesigning one of their cordless impact wrenches from the ground up — not just a cosmetic refresh, but a real look at how the tool fails people.
I sat with mechanics on the floor rather than starting from a spec sheet. The pattern that came back again and again: tools that "feel right" is personal, there's no one-size-fits-all. Past that, three things kept coming up — ergonomics, durability in daily abuse, and being able to self-repair with parts on hand.
A smaller, neutral-posture handle; a soft-touch textile grip and trigger to cut vibration transfer and improve traction in oily conditions; a magnetic hose management system with a flexible guide so the hose stops fighting the user's hand; and a housing built for simple internal access instead of full-unit replacement.
Foam volume studies went back to the same mechanics for a second round before anything got finalized. The feedback was specific and occasionally contradictory — one preferred the second concept's controls but the first concept's trigger position moved further out; another flagged the first concept's gasket as a repair headache. That tension between "feels better" and "repairs better" shaped where I compromised and where I didn't.
Turning a handheld hair dryer into something you wear instead of hold.
Reimagine the hair-drying experience — take it from a handheld tool that tires your arm out mid-routine to something hands-free you can wear.
None of the category leaders solve for hands-free use: the Dyson Supersonic runs $400–500 and still asks you to hold it, the Revlon One-Step is corded, and the Shark FlexStyle, despite the name, is still a handheld multi-styler.
Phase 1 stayed close to a familiar wand, just smaller. Phase 2 is where it became wearable — a dual-motor neckband with a magnetic dock, tested handheld and worn side by side. Phase 3 refined the collar itself: sketched directly on a neck to check curve and clearance, then finished with a perforated grip texture at the contact points so it stays put without pinching.
A materials-led smartwatch study built in a Movado-sponsored studio.
A university design studio sponsored around Movado's materials and manufacturing constraints — the assignment was less "invent a new watch" and more "prove you can design confidently inside someone else's supply chain."
I started from the mood board rather than the movement: sculptural, glossy-on-matte forms, one saturated accent against black and white, and the kind of stitched-band detailing you'd find on technical outerwear more than on a dress watch. A soft rectangular case language carried that through in metal and polymer instead of fabric.
Same case, dial layout and VX7RE movement across all three — the variable was colorway and how committed each one felt. Concept 1 stayed dark and utilitarian, with red-stitched detailing on a woven strap. Concept 2 pushed a single saturated tone through case, dial and band together. Concept 3 flipped to a light case with a red dial and a subtle repeating wordmark pattern pressed into the strap lining. All three were reviewed at 100% and 200% scale to check proportion and legibility before I picked a direction to take further.
A refillable filtration bottle pitched as an alternative to bottled water.
Clear started life as a venture pitch rather than a studio brief — I built the problem framing, the physical system, and the case for why it's worth making, all in one pass.
A bottle, a carrier bag for field use, and a pair of replaceable filter cartridges — designed to be refilled from questionable sources rather than replaced every use. A status-indicator strip on the body reads out filter life at a glance, so the failure mode is visible before the water isn't safe anymore. The filter itself screws onto any PCO 28 threaded bottle — the same standard thread most disposable water bottles already use — through a membrane microfilter stage before the water reaches the mouthpiece.
Developed and presented a safety-focused automotive design concept end-to-end — research, prototyping, and a live pitch under competitive pressure.
Coursework and studio partnerships spanning cordless power tools, wearables, and materials-led product design, including sponsored studios with Ingersoll Rand and Movado.
Reliable retail experience in a fast-paced environment — customer interactions, problem resolution, and multitasking, with a track record for learning new systems quickly.