About

My journey began in open source software and internet technologies. I fell in love with the idea that tools should be shared, that knowledge compounds when it circulates freely, and that the best solutions emerge from open collaboration rather than closed competition.

That conviction shaped everything that followed. It informed how I build teams, how I approach problems, and how I think about the relationship between technology and the people it is meant to serve.

From open source, I moved into enterprise technology, eventually spending years at Akamai helping scale infrastructure across three continents. It was an education in complexity — not technical complexity, but organizational complexity. How do you align thousands of people around a shared mission? How do you build trust across cultures, time zones, and competing priorities?

These questions turned out to be more important than any technical problem I ever solved.

I have founded several companies, each one an attempt to close a gap I observed between what technology could do and what it was actually doing for people. The most recent is Vudexis, a MedTech venture focused on bringing AI-powered diagnostic precision to communities that currently lack access to specialist care.

Building a startup in healthcare taught me that speed without trust is meaningless, that regulation is design constraint rather than obstacle, and that the most important metrics are human outcomes, not quarterly revenue.

Midway through my career, I paused to earn an Executive MBA at HEC Paris. It was one of the best decisions I have made — not because of what I learned in the classroom, but because of who I learned alongside. Business leaders from every continent, every industry, every worldview.

I joined the Young Presidents’ Organization for similar reasons. The value of peer leadership is not in the answers. It is in the questions you would never think to ask on your own.

In parallel with my career in technology, I have been involved in humanitarian work — participating in migrant rescue operations in the Mediterranean, documenting displacement in Eastern Congo, and photographing communities on the margins of geopolitical attention.

The camera is my tool of accountability. It does not solve problems. But it insists that the people most affected by the systems we build deserve to be seen, named, and remembered.

I used to think my work in technology and my work in humanitarian photography were separate lives. I no longer believe that. They are the same commitment, expressed differently: the belief that every person deserves access to the tools, care, and attention that allow them to live with dignity.

I am based in Seattle. I work globally. And I remain convinced that the most important work in technology is not the code we write but the people we write it for.