My Personal Philosophy

I have never been particularly interested in moderation.

Not because I think everything should be extreme, I just think there is something far more interesting in the combination of range, depth and intensity.

And I've been thinking about those three things a lot lately.

When something captures my attention, I tend to follow it a very long way.

Horses led me to four years of varsity equestrian at Dartmouth, and a lifetime passion for jumping, dressage, cross-country, saddle seat, polo, rodeo, roping and cattle drives.

Mountains have led me above 20,000 feet (6,000m), where the human body is operating with roughly half the oxygen available at sea level. I carry my own gear and make my own decisions.

A love of historic jewelry took me to GIA and deep into gemology, provenance, construction, craftsmanship and history.

I paint. One of my pieces hangs in the U.S. Capitol.

I sail, I high-altitude trail run, I cross-country ski and I backcountry snowshoe.

In my daily interests, I give myself permission to explore what I want, and I never follow any trends:

I love Opera (Verdi over Mozart). I appreciate live classical music for the technical competency as much as the music itself. I read D.H. Lawrence, Austen and Byron alongside Chinese and Japanese classics. My favorite film is the original Dune. My favorite sports are F1 and UFC. Other loves include archaeology, geology, poetry, ancient history and world religion.

I’m not great at small talk.

I follow fashion for its history and its extremes: Rick Owens, Hermès, Dolce & Gabbana. My beverages of choice are vintage Champagne and whisky.

I stopped eating meat one day 15 years ago. No transition. I simply never ate it again.

The common threads? The range matters to me. So does the depth. And so does the intensity.

Because the combination changes the resolution at which you experience the world.

The more you know about a horse, a mountain, a jewel, a machine, a piece of music or a place, the more there is to see.

Details become information. Technique becomes visible. Craftsmanship becomes legible. History adds context. Mastery becomes recognizable.

The world gains resolution.

I think that probably explains something about my work, too. I'm endlessly interested in experiences that take people beyond the surface and give them access to something they couldn't otherwise see.

But this isn't really a post about work.

I've been told some version of “dial it back” for most of my life. Less intense. Less extreme. More balance.

I've never found much of interest on the other side of that advice.

Sometimes the qualities we’re quickest to moderate are the ones that give a life its shape.