I don’t do videos. I make short films for people who are after something bigger than a transaction.

I think about this work the way I think about music. The set is a stage. The lights are reverb. What I’m looking for is groove – the throughline, that fundamental frequency between who you are and who you’re trying to reach. If I can find that frequency within a client and make it harmonic with the frequency of their audience, that’s craft. That’s what I’m after.

My superpower is patience. My mom was the example of heroism I learned from. She can shut out the noise and dial into whatever she wants to focus on, and what springs from that is magic – from medical care to family dinners. I try to find that flow behind the camera. No matter what’s going on around me, I’m locked in on the image and feeling.

All we are is a bundle of references. Trying to stay true to one reference means you’re a copycat. Layering references in new and delightful ways means you’re innovating. I have to break the plate first, then reassemble it. The glue choice and the rearrangement – that’s where my voice comes in.

This isn’t just how I make films. It’s how I write, produce music, cook, garden, parent. When it’s done correctly, the work becomes resonant across senses. Total synesthesia.

I don’t think attention spans are shrinking. I think people are bored of copycat content and constant advertising – whether commercials or product placement.

When rewarded with a story well told, that’s an excuse to binge. To set aside entire afternoons to a book or a podcast series. A weekend to a TV show or movie series.

In a world saturated with options, humans are the differentiator. Not the price. Not the latest firmware. Who are the humans this is meant to serve and who are the humans making this thing available? What do they believe and why do they make it?

That matters now more than ever.

I have three feature-length screenplays I want to refine, produce, self-fund, and direct. Every client project at Method is deliberate practice toward that bigger vision. These micro projects push me to get better so I can unlock the next thing that’s going to help me make those films.

I view my customers as investors. It’s my job to generate a meaningful return on your investment.

Running a three-person studio serves that pursuit because I want collaborative intuition, and that means I need people who have their own intuition. When I was a kid and I was trying to do too much, my dad would always notice. He would bring me back to earth by saying “hey hero!” I would stop what I was doing, look around, and see how I was already setting myself up to fail. He was training me to stay calm, trust my instinct, and lean on and respect the instincts of others – namely my two younger brothers.

That’s what I want at Method. Not to be the hero. To build the team.