How Coastal Light and Wilderness Influence My Design Aesthetic

Carmel has a way of slowing you down. Sometimes against your will. The fog drifts in like it owns the place, the light bends through it, and even the colors on your jacket look different by noon.

One late afternoon I hiked the Soberanes Trail in Garrapata State Park. The trail climbs quickly, winding through chaparral and bursts of wild sage. Near the ridge I stopped to watch fog spill over the rolling hills, slipping between the canyons as if it was pouring itself into the sea. Then the sun broke through, a last flash of gold igniting the hillsides while the fog stayed silver.

That view stayed with me. I realized a lot of the muted blues, weathered grays, copper edges, and sandy neutrals I’d been using in my design work weren’t just “safe brand colors.” They were the hillside at Soberanes at 6:30 p.m. in September.

Big Sur especially has a palette that never stops shifting. Morning is pewter and sage, noon turns crisp white and steel-blue, and sunset burns everything copper. I bring that into my photography. Especially when I shoot blades or lifestyle scenes for Grit Knives. A knife staged against a redwood stump in late-afternoon light tells a completely different story than one shot under studio lamps.

What I love most is that nothing here feels over-designed. The wind sculpts the cypress trees, the ocean etches its own typography into the rocks. I try to let that same sense of inevitability guide the work.