For as long as I can remember, words and music have danced in front of my eyes, dressed in magnificent hues and shades. Synesthesia, they call it. A cross-wiring of the senses that, for me, decorates every character of the English lexicon and every musical note on a piano.

E flat. Platypus. 1885.

I know. It’s weird. Still with me here?

I’d like to be able to say that it’s granted me some sort of creative superpower: the ability to please art directors with a single palette selection, the capacity to wow copywriters through effortless linguistic prose, the magical gift of executing pristine ads that come to me as naturally as plucking a melody out of thin air. (It’s in C minor.)

The truth is, it hasn’t. And that’s okay.

My colorful worldview doesn’t make me the best at what I do. But it inspires me to showcase those perceptions with vibrant authenticity, tell stories that evoke emotion in each sensory capacity, and put my best self forward in every ad that I create, weird quirks and all.

And it never hurts to come with a built-in fun fact.