Stay curious and open to learning in unexpected ways. Some of the most valuable experiences don’t come from design studios but from walking through a city, spending time on a construction site, or listening carefully in a stakeholder meeting. Be rigorous about how you think, not just how you draw. The best designers I’ve worked with understand the “why” behind a decision just as clearly as the “how.” And don’t rush to specialize too early. Work on different projects, in different places, and with different teams. That variety gives you range, and the range provides perspective.

The best advice I’ve received echoes this: growth rarely happens when things are comfortable. Early on, I was encouraged to embrace challenges without obvious solutions and to stay curious about unfamiliar places and perspectives. That mindset has shaped my path, from working in different countries to leading complex civic projects with shifting priorities and constraints.

Becoming licensed in both Germany and the U.S. wasn’t just about meeting technical requirements. It marked two very different ways of thinking about architecture. That process pushed me to adapt, work across systems, and stay open to unfamiliar workflows and values.

I’m proud of what that experience gave me. It taught me a kind of design flexibility that I carry into work with civic clients, multidisciplinary teams, and layered urban sites. In a field where no two projects are alike, that diversity has been one of my most valuable tools and something I draw on daily.

Before I worked on a building, I helped digitally reconstruct one that had stood for over 3,000 years. In 2010, I joined an excavation at the ancient city of Qatna in Syria, where we worked with the remains of a Bronze Age palace, once one of the largest in the region.

It wasn’t just about history. It was the first time I understood how architecture can hold cultural memory long after materials crumble or context fades. That experience shifted something for me. It taught me to approach design as a response to the present and as a framework that can carry meaning forward, even when we’re no longer there to explain it.

I bike to work year-round in Chicago, and that ride home is often the clearest part of my day. It’s a quiet way to move through the city, slow enough to notice details and fast enough to clear your head. You start to pick up on how a place shifts with the seasons or how light changes a familiar façade. It keeps me connected to the places we design for.

On weekends in the summer, I like to run along the lakefront. Passing the beach with the skyline in view always feels like a small reset, just enough distance from the work to return with a better perspective.

Probably industrial design. I’ve always been drawn to how objects use form, material, and detail to communicate and shape experience. Architecture just happened to be the scale that took hold. But the curiosity behind it is the same: designing things that are thoughtful, useful, and built to last.

That mindset has carried over into side projects I’ve kept up over the years. Whether it’s a lamp or a transit station, the most compelling design comes from clarity and understanding of how people engage with what you’ve made.