For me, architecture has always been about more than just buildings—it’s about creating spaces that connect people to their environment. Between my love of nature, developed at an early age, and my architectural studies, my thesis in grad school felt like a pivotal culmination point of all that has interested me thus far. It further evolved into an exploration of how nature influences design, both emotionally and functionally.

Originally from Syracuse, I completed my undergraduate studies at the University of Buffalo and enrolled at the University of Utah after taking a gap year. During that time I spent four months living in the mountains of Colorado. That experience—partly inspired by Henry David Thoreau and others like him with a journey mindset—solidified my love for the West and my appreciation for designing with nature rather than against it.

The Natural Connection

Nature and architecture have always been linked. I spend a lot of time hiking, immersing myself in different landscapes, and studying how being in these spaces affects me. Research shows that natural environments create physiological changes in the body—shifting attention, reducing stress, and allowing the mind to wander in ways that built environments often don’t. I analyze habitats, not just visually, but through sound, light, and texture, trying to understand how different elements contribute to an overall experience. This has led me toward biophilic design—an approach that seeks to meaningfully integrate natural elements into architecture.

One of the things I appreciate about nature’s design is that it is always driven by necessity and function. There’s nothing ornamental about the way a tree grows or a river carves through a canyon—these forms emerge from pure logic, shaped by time and environment. In that sense, taking inspiration from nature isn’t new; it’s about observing and translating what already works.

Designing with the Landscape

When working with clients, I start by understanding what drew them to their site in the first place. What do they find intriguing? What experience do they hope to have there? Before designing a structure, I consider the natural elements that make the location special. For instance, if someone envisions sitting on their deck in the summer, listening to a nearby stream and the rustling of leaves, the architecture should support and enhance that experience, not interrupt it.

Utah’s diverse landscapes provide incredible opportunities for site-specific design—capturing intentional views, making room for natural sounds and scents, and emphasizing the connection between interior and exterior spaces. A well-designed home should feel like an extension of its environment, rather than something imposed upon it.

Material Choices: A Balancing Act

I’m drawn to natural materials—earth, stone, wood, and even vegetated roofs when they make sense. However, material choices always involve a tradeoff. Many clients lean toward low-maintenance options, but these often strip away some of the raw, natural character of a space. Nature isn’t static, and there’s a certain beauty in materials that age and change over time. In Japan, for example, architecture is designed to integrate back into the natural environment, whereas in the U.S., we often build to outlast generations. This contrast fascinates me—how different cultures approach the relationship between built and natural environments.

Fortunately, advances in technology are making it easier to use natural materials in durable, sustainable ways. There’s an opportunity to embrace materials that evolve with time rather than resist it.

The Intimacy of Residential Work

I love residential architecture because it allows for a deep, personal connection with the people who will inhabit a space. Designing a home means tailoring every decision to how a particular individual or family lives. Second homes and vacation homes are especially intriguing—they are often narrative-driven, centered around a specific experience the owner wants to have. This opens the door for more sculptural, artistic approaches, where even the smallest details carry meaning.

At its best, architecture is more than just shelter—it’s an experience. And when that experience is shaped by nature, it has the power to be both grounding and inspiring.