Why would someone show up? Why would they stay? What would make them remember it?
I start there, then build the idea, partnerships, programming, and details that turn the answer into something people genuinely want to be part of.
I’ve spent my career building experiences around a question that comes before the venue, guest list, talent, or production plan: why would this particular person want to be part of this?
Sometimes the answer was belonging. Sometimes access. Sometimes curiosity, recognition, service, or the chance to be close to something they already cared deeply about. Finding that answer changed what I built.
It’s why I don’t separate audience insight from creative strategy. The strongest idea usually appears when you understand what matters to the people in the room, what matters to the partner helping bring them there, and where those motivations overlap. That is where an event stops being something people attend and starts becoming something they choose.
I’m a builder by nature. I like the blank page, the overlooked opportunity, and the constraint that forces a better idea. Much of the work I’m proudest of started without a playbook, a traditional event budget, or even an obvious path forward. I learned to find the leverage, align the right people, and build from whatever was actually available.
Then I get very operational. The idea only matters if it works in the room. Programming, partners, guest experience, briefing materials, travel, production, the thing somebody forgot to order: I care about the details because they are where the strategy becomes an experience.
The goal is never simply a successful event. It is an experience people remember, a relationship that gets stronger because of it, and, when something works, a model worth building on.
Across entertainment, military communities, families, fans, and global partners, the audiences changed. The starting point didn’t: understand what would make the experience matter, then build around it.
MGM brought the IP and talent, and funded the travel, production, and content capture. I designed two base visits, a virtual engagement reaching troops overseas, and a talent-signed donor campaign, each for a different audience. The campaign proved that authentic service-member experiences could serve the mission while giving the studio a credible story to carry far beyond the moment. Every studio partnership that followed was built on what this one proved.
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Co-branded across talent and Prime Video channels during peak holiday season, the reach was significant. The trust it transferred was more so. His audience did not just see the USO. They saw someone they trusted choosing it.
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MGM returned for a second partnership, not because they had to, but because the first one delivered for everyone at the table. In this work, that’s the only verdict that counts.
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Three names, one activation. The military motorcycle community that lived the film’s subject became part of the experience, not just its audience. It felt authentic because it was built with the community, not merely for it.
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Three integrations across three Prime Video titles. What began as one engagement became a program, with each project building on the access and trust established before it.
VIEW ON INSTAGRAM →Not every great experience starts with the perfect brief, budget, or yes. Sometimes the work is finding the version people can say yes to, then making that first step matter.
Snoop couldn’t give us a week overseas. He could give us thirty minutes. I built around that yes, bringing him directly to deployed service members for an honest conversation about staying connected to home. On our next call, his representative told me it was one of the best things he had done during a launch. The experience stayed with Snoop and his team, and built the trust that opened the door to whatever we imagined next.
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I wanted to reach Dave Portnoy’s audience, but the most credible invitation was Miss Peaches. Her following and natural connection to the USO’s canine campaign made the idea feel true. The video created an authentic first step toward that audience and a meaningful first experience for Dave, opening the door to more. It did not need to be a major campaign. It needed to be the right beginning.
VIEW ON INSTAGRAM →The scale can change completely without changing the principle. Sometimes the entire experience begins with understanding one person well enough to make every touchpoint feel intentional.
I designed a pop-star day around Cayden, aligning Red Bull Studios, Macy’s, Maroon 5, and Extra around one experience built entirely from his point of view. A cheering welcome, recording session, wardrobe, artist moment, and live interview were not separate stops. They were intentional touchpoints in a single story, so the experience never merely placed Cayden near celebrity. Every partner helped make him the star.
Some of my best work started outside the assignment: an opportunity I couldn’t stop seeing, a problem that needed a different answer, or an idea worth building before anyone asked for it.
One reimagined how an organization could create cultural relevance at scale. The other turned an impossible promotional constraint into an entirely different kind of partnership opportunity.
I saw a larger future for an organization I believed in, so I put it on paper. I developed a 14-page enterprise strategy for positioning the USO as America’s nonprofit, then distilled it into a one-page executive brief. The framework made visibility, storytelling, and cultural engagement part of mission delivery. It sequenced awareness before affinity and giving, and reimagined entertainment, sports, and transitions around scale, trust, and distinctive value. I sent both to the incoming CEO because loyalty to an organization includes offering your clearest thinking, even when no one has asked for it.
A three-way brand integration anchored to Memorial Day and the film’s D-Day narrative. The 72¢ donation mirrored the film’s 72-hour theme, spanning a limited-edition Dunkin’ cup, talent appearances, and service-member screenings. The exchange gave the studio a cultural story when traditional media was unavailable, Dunkin’ an authentic role in a patriotic moment, the USO awareness and a fundraising path, and Americans an easy way to support those who serve.
When world events made talent-led military promotion impossible, I moved the story to an overlooked collection of World War II letters. I brought in Legacybox to digitize them at no cost, then built a public archive around their human story of D-Day and a studio-funded mission immersion at Fort Campbell for 14 media and creators.
I never designed an experience simply to generate coverage. But when something is true to the people at its center, there is often a story other people recognize themselves in. Those are the stories that travel.
After one event with Tyler Florence, I saw both his genuine connection to the military, and the larger untapped opportunity — The Great Food Truck Race. When my team declined another engagement, I found a cost-neutral path through the marketing team, and joined him at Fleet Week. I raised the show early, then let the experience do the rest. By dinner, Tyler was asking what we could do next, and suggested the series himself. I secured the producer introduction, wrote the creative brief, and pitched the concept. They made it the season finale. The placement helped the USO recognize the full value of the relationship, and Tyler later became a Global Ambassador.
At Make-A-Wish, there was no room for error. A wish happens once. I designed each around the child while protecting everyone the moment touched — the family, the talent, the organization — so the joy landed and nothing was left to chance. When a wish also held a story worth telling, sharing it could extend the gift to millions.
Seven wish kids came to music’s biggest night to see the stars. For Today, they were the stars. The coverage did more than document the wish. It became part of it, letting millions share in their joy without taking the spotlight from them.