True story. In my early twenties, after somewhat of a spectacular flame out from college number one, I gathered myself up and rented the top floor of Blackbeard’s (yes, the pirate) former, super secret hideout in Charleston, South Carolina. To gain access to the building undetected, Edward Teach and other raiders would use a tunnel that extended from the waterfront straight to the basement. 

Living in a notorious pirate safe house came with some real perks and more than a few obstacles. Who wouldn’t want to live in a pirate house? Surely it’s a universally accepted childhood aspiration, right? Conversely, not being able to fully concentrate on the book you’re reading because your  mind refuses to cease projecting the ghostly specter of some long dead marauder waltzing through your bedroom door is not as chill as it sounds.

How is this fleeting moment of lesser-known naval history relevant at all, you wonder? Outstanding question. It matters because I can definitively trace my path in the art of creative communication all the way back to this buccaneer sanctum. That space and time prompted a wild convergence of an appreciation for history, design and beyond. And to this day, the aesthetic perspective yielded in that process continues to inform my creative journey.