My aversion to straight lines (isn’t a flaw)

The morning elevator outfit shot

In my twenty years as a professional creative, I’ve been let into a lot of worlds. From scrappy startup teams to global corporate giants, I’ve seen the inside of more companies than most people see in a lifetime. I know the onboarding processes, the org structures, the office politics, and the lunch-time traditions.

Statistically, a professional in my demographic changes jobs maybe three to five times a decade. I blew past that cap a long time ago. The corporate world loves to slap the "job hopper" label on a resume like that. But here's the truth: I wasn't running away. I was actively searching.

Moving that fast gives you a specific kind of education. I became a master at reading the room. Walking into a new workplace is like being dropped into the middle of a novel. You have to figure out who the characters are, what the real plotline is, and how the underlying mechanics work, fast.

Usually, it takes me about one to three months to see the truth of a place—to see the gap between what the brochure says, and how the machine actually runs.

I learned quickly not to judge a business by its cover. Once I understood the context, I saw exactly how creativity is managed, sold, and, too often, diluted. What I found was that my standards were a liability in places that just wanted to maintain the status quo. Either the culture was hollow, or the actual value delivered to the client was an afterthought. My aversion to straight lines isn’t a flaw. It’s an almost annoying, uncompromising refusal to settle for mediocre.

Studio Betty is the culmination of that twenty-year education. It’s built on the belief that kindness, beauty, intelligence, and purpose aren't just nice-to-haves—they're the baseline for success. We aren't just a design studio; we are a vehicle for big dreams. We’re here to do undeniably useful work, to elevate the people we partner with, and to empower the dreamers who are doers.