I'm a filmmaker, producer, and recording artist based in Brooklyn.

I grew up in southern Oregon, raised by hippies, a lot of it off grid. The first thing I wanted to be was a professional skateboarder, and I was good enough that it wasn't a crazy thing to want. I wrote my first play at sixteen, the same year I started college, after a poetry class got me performing spoken word and I didn't want to stop. I picked up a guitar at seventeen. A mentor who'd played in a rock and roll band in the seventies showed me what you could do with it once it was recorded, and that was that.

Guitar turned into producing. Producing turned into a backpack full of recording gear and six months in small villages across Turkey and Bulgaria, until I got sick in a derelict school and spent two weeks bedridden. I was twenty-three. Looking back, that's the pattern: I only knew how to do things all the way or not at all. It took me another ten years to learn that the things that last are the ones you start small.

I co-wrote and produced “I've Got the Gold” with Adam Knight. It's past thirty million streams, mostly because a DJ named Shoby remixed it. That's how most of the good things in music have happened to me. You do the work, and then something you didn't plan does the rest. Since 2019 I've written and produced under the project honorscouts with Alex Shane, a friend since we were kids; our first album Magical Realism put “Love You Right” into regular rotation on French radio.

From 2021 to 2025 I was director and head of production at Wreckroom in Brooklyn, running the Daylight Sessions and the Safe and Sound Showcase with artists like Mahalia, Abhi the Nomad, and The Backfires. In 2024 I put out the Spaceman EP under the moniker sixsun, made the “Starry Night” video, and co-founded Liminal Films with Gabriel Lakey. I scored and colored our first short, The Barbarian; it premiered at Portland Film Festival in 2025.

Most days now I'm on other people's projects — camera, edit, color, score — and I like that. I can chase what's interesting and leave when I'm done, and nobody needs me to be precious about it. It took me a long time to stop reading that as a failure to commit.

The rest of the time I'm writing a series about my grandparents, who left California for eastern Oregon in the seventies to grow weed, raise kids, and find God. I grew up in the world they made. Part of what writing is, is to remember.

I live in Brooklyn with my wife.