I make complex software feel simple to use.

Products people depend on

I grew up where the simplest conveniences were often out of reach. That’s where my interest in design started: not in how things look, but in whether they work for the person who needs them.

I studied engineering and found my way to product design because I kept asking why things were built the way they were, and how they could work better. I’m drawn to products where getting it right isn’t about aesthetics. It decides whether someone can see a doctor, manage their savings, or do their job without fighting the tool.

Complexity is not the enemy. Confusion is.

Most of the software I work on is complicated because the job behind it is complicated. Payroll has to handle every exception. A portfolio review has to hold every number. You can hide that behind a friendly screen, but it doesn’t disappear. It moves to the person using the product, and now they’re guessing.

I want these products to look simple and be readable at the same time. That means the whole truth on screen, in the order someone actually works, with the next step obvious. Simplicity that costs people the ability to do their job isn’t simplicity. They pay for it later, in support tickets and the spreadsheet they keep on the side.

So I fix the sequence before I cut the depth. I read the complaints before I run a workshop. And in health and money, I earn a bit of trust before I ask for anything, because people decide fast whether a product is safe.

Four beliefs, and the projects that tested them

Each of these changed a decision I made, and each one paid off.

Where I’ve done the work

Mentoring and teaching

Most of what makes a good product designer is judgement, and judgement is teachable. I spend part of my time helping other designers build it.