I nearly arrived in the back of a Citroën 2CV, which says something about the improvised nature of my early years. Raised by British parents in the French Alps, I grew up on a diet of bandes dessinées, badly dubbed American TV, and Japanese sci-fi. In France we were “les rosbif”; in California, “the French kids.” That outsider status became a quiet strength, our fuel for curiosity and creativity.

My mother, a fine artist turned graphic designer, introduced me to the alchemy of scanning and recoloring my drawings. At fourteen, I began working in a small screen-printing shop under Ron Smoot, who taught me rubylith, Letraset, and the discipline of making things well. From there, I moved through apparel graphics and production studios to leading teams on global campaigns. The tools have changed, but I still sketch daily, rooted in the same impulse to create, adapt, and belong.