Allow me to indroduce myself

Four generations of my bloodline came before me and lent their hands to construction. They turned land into communities, buildings into businesses, and houses into homes, leaving their fingerprints on my hometown. Growing up in the shadows of my familial legacy, I spent an enormous amount of time around my dad, who was a master at his craft. I was a sponge studying his processes and memorizing how his mind worked.

I had plenty of early exposure to the design and construction process to the point that creativity became second nature; I practically learned to use my hands before standing on my feet. All the while I was exercising the right side of my brain, the left side did not fall short.

My dad was persistent in higher education. My boldest memories of grade school were bringing home all of my textbooks and reading them aloud at the dinner table until it was past my bedtime - per his request. Afterward, we would stand at the furthest opposing sides of a room and rapidly go through mathematical flash cards. The goal was to strengthen my sight and eliminate hesitation - I knew the answer so confidently that I did not stutter or take time to think twice about it. Outside of my studies, I was raised in a dojang, mastering the art of discipline and strength through taekwondo. I remember bold words on the wall that read "Be humble, gentle, and strong; your goal is a black belt"  and I was by age 10.

I find it no surprise that my brain and my hands are ambidextrous. I exist at the crossroads of imagination and logic. However, academia was always superior to my creative outlets. I hadn't ever considered taking on the family business, but instead, I blazed trails to become a veterinarian with multiple smaller creative detours. Of course, working with animals and being artistic was exciting in my youth -- but age, responsibility, and the urgency of declaring my career to get ahead caused a very apparent disconnect between my left and right brain. The higher I climbed the academic ladder, the further I felt from my artistic self. It was not until a year before the birth of Haus of Black that I finally put my academic goals to rest and dove freely into my creative outlets.

My first steps into the design world were independent of any family affairs. I was working with out-of-state investors who were buying Airbnbs in Nashville's booming market. These projects were simple: How can I get the most with the least? Where does luxury meet durability? A creative challenge no doubt, but eventually became a rhythm of copy and paste. This came to a rapid halt with the state of the world in 2020.

As the world shut down slowly, then all at once, the meaning of home shifted. The home was no more a place to eat, sleep, and shower. It became the corporate office, date night spot, and weekend getaway. And while we became distant from everyone outside of our walls, we had no choice but to face the challenge of becoming closer to those within them.

In June 2020, I moved into my first home in the heart of Nashville: an industrial loft with exposed brick in a historic building - say less. Despite the blank white walls leaving little to the imagination, I had a vision of black. In my design planning, I received pushback for wanting an all-black condo. I ignored the feedback and proceeded without caution. How could I use a bold color in a way that is still moody yet warm and inviting?

Let me show you.