A Founder’s Story

Over the years, I've come to believe that good design is rarely defined by a single creative gesture. More often, it's the accumulation of hundreds of smaller decisions: a carefully considered proportion, a softened edge, the relationship between two surfaces, or simply the way light moves across a material.

Most of those decisions may never be noticed individually. But together, they can create something that feels considered, balanced, and complete.

That way of thinking has guided every stage of my career.

It ultimately led me toward architecture, not simply as a profession, but as a way of understanding the world. I became fascinated by why certain buildings, objects, and spaces possessed a quiet confidence while others did not. The answer rarely seemed dramatic. More often, it was found in disciplined proportions, honest materials, thoughtful engineering, and an unwavering commitment to every detail.

My architectural education began at the University of Colorado, included summer studies at UCLA, and ultimately culminated at NewSchool of Architecture & Design, where I earned a Master of Architecture. My award-winning graduate thesis explored the architectural potential of high-performance concrete, marking the beginning of what has become more than two decades of studying, designing with, and continually refining one of architecture's most humble yet expressive materials.

While many people viewed concrete simply as a humble, structural material, I became increasingly interested in its ability to express elegance, permanence, and extraordinary craftsmanship.

My architectural training continues to shape everything I design today. It taught me to think beyond the object itself and instead consider proportion, materiality, engineering, light, and space as parts of a single composition. In recent years, those same principles have naturally found expression in the design of my own custom ground-up residence, with a second personal residential project currently underway.

The experience has only reinforced what I've believed for years: whether designing an entire home or a single object, the principles remain remarkably consistent. Great design isn't defined by scale. It's defined by the clarity of its ideas and the care with which they're executed.

During graduate school and the years that followed, I developed a deep interest in the evolving relationship between digital and analog fabrication. I became fascinated by the way computational design, digital modeling, CNC machining, and emerging fabrication technologies could work alongside traditional craftsmanship rather than replace it. That dialogue between technology and handcraft has remained a constant source of inspiration throughout my career and continues to influence the way I approach design, manufacturing, and innovation today.

That curiosity also led me to seek out opportunities that would broaden my understanding of design from every possible angle. Early in my career, I had the opportunity to contribute to projects for Apple, where I experienced a culture that demanded an extraordinary level of precision. Nothing was arbitrary. Every radius, every material transition, and every manufacturing decision existed for a reason.

Watching that process reinforced something I already believed: exceptional products are rarely born from a single inspired gesture. They emerge through relentless refinement, where every thoughtful decision quietly strengthens the next until the finished object simply feels inevitable.

I also had the opportunity to contribute to a couple of projects within the studio of Zaha Hadid. One involved structural takeoffs and feasibility studies for a custom residence in La Jolla, California. Another focused on evaluating fabrication strategies for complex, non-orthogonal architectural forms, exploring how digitally conceived geometry could be translated into practical methods of manufacturing and construction.

As my career evolved, I found myself wanting more than the ability to imagine beautiful objects. I wanted to understand how they were engineered, manufactured, assembled, installed, and ultimately experienced by the people who lived with them.

That pursuit led me far beyond the traditional role of a designer. I immersed myself in engineering, mold making, concrete formulation, manufacturing, construction, and installation, ultimately becoming a California Licensed Contractor specializing in architectural precast concrete.

Designing with concrete was no longer enough. I wanted to understand the material completely, not only how it was conceived, but how it behaved, how it was formed, how it aged, and how every decision made during fabrication influenced the finished object.

That firsthand experience fundamentally changed the way I approached design. I no longer saw engineering, manufacturing, and craftsmanship as constraints to creativity, but as essential parts of it.

Looking back, what once appeared to be a series of different careers now feels like a single pursuit. Architecture taught me how to think. Apple reinforced the importance of precision. Computational design revealed new possibilities. Working directly with concrete taught me the realities of fabrication, tolerances, and craftsmanship.

Together, those experiences formed the foundation for everything that would eventually become LUMACAST.

Concrete became the material through which those ideas found their clearest expression. I found my artistic identity working with concrete, the medium through which I could explore form, texture, and scale.

To me, concrete has always been a remarkably humble material. It doesn't rely on ornament or imitation to justify its beauty. Instead, it possesses an honesty that I find deeply compelling. At the same time, I've always believed much of its potential has gone unrealized. While many celebrate concrete for its rawness or imperfections, I've always been drawn to something different.

I've always believed that craftsmanship is the pursuit of revealing a material at its highest potential. Concrete, perhaps more than any other material, can never truly be perfected. Every cast presents a new challenge, and every piece offers another opportunity to improve. What began as a profession became a lifelong pursuit of perfection within an inherently imperfect material.

Every mold we create, every concrete formulation we refine, every finish we develop, and every manufacturing process we improve is part of an ongoing effort to better understand the material itself. Experience has taught me that concrete is capable of far more than most people imagine, provided it is approached with patience, discipline, and respect.

I've always believed that craftsmanship isn't about imposing perfection on a material. It's about revealing its highest potential. Every material has an inherent character that cannot be ignored, only understood. Concrete, in particular, is an active participant in the creative process. It responds to climate, chemistry, timing, and touch, making every cast a dialogue between maker and material.

That philosophy has shaped my design language. Because concrete begins as a liquid, I believe its most compelling forms should honor that origin through organic geometry, continuous transitions, and flowing surfaces. Rather than forcing the material into forms that resist its nature, I seek designs that allow it to express both strength and softness at once.

The goal has never been to make concrete imitate another material, but to reveal the extraordinary qualities that are uniquely its own.

Those beliefs eventually became the foundation of LUMACAST.

I never set out to build another outdoor fire feature company. I set out to build a design company that happened to specialize in outdoor fire features. At a time when much of the industry had largely accepted convention over original design, I believed outdoor fire features deserved the same level of design consideration, engineering, and permanence as architecture itself. They should quietly elevate the spaces around them rather than simply occupy them.

From the very beginning, originality became a non-negotiable part of that vision. I've never been interested in producing incremental variations of existing products. Every new collection begins with a blank page and evolves through sketching, digital modeling, 3D-printed scale models, engineering, prototyping, and relentless refinement until every proportion, transition, and detail feels exactly as it should.

That exploration continues today.

As my understanding of concrete has deepened, so has my desire to explore what else the material can become. Recent work has expanded beyond fire and water into MONOLITHS, sculptural furniture, the CRESTA bench, and VECTOR tables, new expressions of the same ongoing relationship between concrete, computation, and craft.

For me, these aren't departures from what LUMACAST has always been. They're a natural evolution of it. Each new category gives me another opportunity to explore form, materiality, fabrication, and scale, and to push concrete into places I haven't taken it before.

What began with fire features has gradually become a much broader exploration of luxury outdoor objects for the landscape.

Perhaps what excites me most about that evolution is the opportunity for our work to contribute to a project as a whole. Architecture taught me that an individual object is never experienced in isolation. It exists in relationship to the architecture, the landscape, the materials around it, and the way people move through a space.

As LUMACAST continues to expand into new categories, I love the possibility that our designs can begin to connect different moments within a project: a fire feature anchoring one gathering space, a water feature creating another, a sculptural piece defining the landscape, or furniture extending the same design language elsewhere. When those individual elements share a common sensibility of form, material, and craft, they can create a sense of continuity throughout the larger environment.

We began with fire, but I've never wanted our contribution to end there. When a client, architect, or designer invites us to participate in more than one part of a project, I'm genuinely humbled by that opportunity. To have our work complement the architecture rather than compete with it, and to help connect and anchor different parts of a space through a shared design language, is one of the most meaningful ways I can imagine LUMACAST becoming part of a project.

My commitment to protecting original design was shaped by one of the more difficult lessons of my early career. As I began sharing my work publicly, I noticed larger companies taking an interest. Some followed my work closely, interacted with my designs, and then, months later, introduced remarkably similar products of their own.

At the time, I didn't fully understand the importance of design patent protection, nor did I have the financial resources to pursue it. I eventually learned that once a design is publicly disclosed, there is only a limited window to secure patent protection. By the time I understood that process, several opportunities had already been lost.

While those experiences were discouraging, they fundamentally changed the way I approached original design. They reinforced my belief that creativity deserves stewardship. Today, every original LUMACAST collection is carefully documented and evaluated for design patent protection, not because I believe ideas should be hidden, but because I believe the time, discipline, and persistence required to create something genuinely original deserve to be protected.

That philosophy lives within every original LUMACAST collection. Every patented and patent-pending design reflects an unwavering commitment to originality and the belief that truly exceptional design is achieved through the patient refinement of thoughtful decisions, each one carefully considered and each one quietly contributing to a more complete design.

Today, that philosophy has resulted in more than twenty design patents and patents pending, with thousands of LUMACAST designs finding homes throughout North America and beyond.

Those milestones are deeply meaningful, but they've never been the objective. They're simply the byproduct of remaining committed to original thinking and refusing to compromise on the work.

Over the years, I've watched many of our original designs influence the broader industry. While others may reinterpret those ideas, I take great satisfaction in knowing that our collections represent the original vision, the result of countless iterations, years of refinement, and an uncompromising pursuit of getting every detail exactly right.

People occasionally ask how I know when a design is finished.

The answer has never changed.

I design pieces that I love.

Pieces I cannot walk past without stopping for one more look.

Every time I walk through one of our production facilities, I'm surrounded by designs I've seen hundreds, sometimes thousands, of times before. Yet I still find myself stopping. I'll notice the way light moves across a polished surface, the relationship between the fire opening and the surrounding form, or the subtle transition from one curve into another.

In many ways they feel like children to me, born from an idea, refined through years of persistence, and ultimately brought into the world through the collective efforts of an extraordinary team. That feeling has never gone away, and I hope it never does.

Every LUMACAST piece carries with it the same relentless pursuit of refinement: refining the design, refining the material, and refining the execution. I still believe there is always another detail worth improving, another process worth perfecting, another idea worth exploring.

Over time, one thought has quietly become my own measure of success:

"If I can walk past a piece without feeling compelled to look at it one more time, then I haven't done my job."

Looking back, I don't think my career has ever really been about concrete. Nor has it ever been about building a successful company for its own sake. I simply wanted a platform through which I could share my creativity with the world, and in many ways I had to build that platform from the ground up.

It has never really been about fire features, sculptural furniture, or water features either. Those are simply the mediums through which my ideas have found expression.

What has always mattered is understanding why certain objects possess a quiet confidence while others do not. It has been about honoring honest, durable materials by revealing them at their highest potential. It has been about believing that engineering and beauty should never compete with one another, and that craftsmanship still matters in a world increasingly driven by speed, short-lived trends, and the pursuit of efficiency and profit above all else.

Most of all, it has been about creating original work, work that quietly earns its place in the lives of the people who gather around it.

I feel incredibly fortunate to spend my life doing this. To imagine an idea, watch it evolve from a sketch into a finished object, and ultimately know that it has become part of someone's home or a thoughtfully designed space is a privilege I'll never take for granted.

If there is one hope I have for everything I create, it is not that people remember who designed it. I hope they simply enjoy living with it. I hope it becomes part of their home, part of their traditions, and part of the memories they create with family and friends.

And for the architects, landscape architects, interior designers, builders, and other design professionals who choose to include our work in their projects, that trust carries a different but equally meaningful responsibility.

We understand there are countless choices available when specifying a project, and we're genuinely grateful whenever a designer chooses LUMACAST. Our role is not to compete with their vision, but to help extend it, to provide objects that complement the architecture and landscape and help communicate the design language, aesthetic, and philosophy they have carefully developed for their client.

Whether our contribution is a single fire feature anchoring a quiet corner of a landscape or a collection of pieces connecting multiple spaces throughout a larger project, we're humbled to be included. If our work can help strengthen the greater whole while allowing the designer's own vision to remain at the forefront, then we've done something meaningful.

Ultimately, I hope our work contributes something lasting to every project it becomes part of, whether great or small, and feels just as thoughtful decades from now as it did the day it was first imagined.

If you've taken the time to read this, thank you. It has taken me nearly ten years to tell this story because I have always wanted LUMACAST to be about the work rather than the person behind it.

In the end, however, I realized that every design reflects the experiences, philosophies, and values of the people who create it. I'm deeply grateful to the homeowners who invite our work into their lives, to the design professionals who entrust us with a place within their vision, and to everyone who has supported LUMACAST along the way.

It is an honor to have our work become part of the spaces you create, the homes you live in, and the memories that will ultimately be made around them.