In 2003, I graduated from Los Angeles County High School for the Arts where I majored in music. I play a few musical instruments but not cool ones like the guitar or piano. Think more along the lines of the oboe.
You might recognize this video from Week Six of my game-a-week project. I don't play much anymore but I pull my oboe out every now and then to make sure my chops don't completely deteriorate. During high school and college though, I played a lot. Here are some groups I played with during that time and the years I played principal:
My oboe career probably peaked in 2002 when I was in a gazillion orchestras and competing fairly regularly. That year, I won first prize at the Southern California Junior Bach Festival (competition recording):
I also won grand prize at the MTAC Mozart Festival (post-competition award ceremony recording):
I cannot overstate the lasting influence that my high school oboe teacher, Francisco Castillo, has had on my life. His lessons were structured around the Tabuteau method and its numerical phrasing system. This method reduced abstract musical expression to unambiguous technical notation that I could understand and replicate, even as an immature teenager.
Once after a concert, I was approached by a man who waited for two hours just to shake my hand, telling me that he was moved to tears by my solo in the second movement of Schubert's Unfinished Symphony. I thought this was crazy since I was just a kid following numbers on a page. Through my lessons with Francisco, I gained a profound appreciation for the depth of emotion and experience that could be encoded with numbers: a notion that has had a tremendous influence on how I design and code.
My oboe teacher, Francisco Castillo
Francisco also stressed the importance of basic fundamentals like long tones, scales and etudes. Like a typical teenager, I disliked practicing basics and when I came to lessons unprepared, we might spend the entire hour working on scales and long tones and never get to actual pieces. Even though I came unprepared somewhat often, Francisco's perpetually cheerful demeanor never once wavered.
Today, I can pick up my oboe even after not playing for a few months and bring myself back to a reasonable level in a fairly short period of time. I'm humbled and grateful to Francisco for leading me down the fruitful path of fundamental skills mastery. It has left such an indelible impression on my life that I've made it my mission to raise the standards of math fundamentals in our education system through games that alleviate the monotony of repetitive practice drills.
Program from my senior recital featuring my middle school band portrait. My dad, former graphic designer at Disney Imagineering and Gensler, had an odd sense of humor.
I joined the UC Berkeley Symphony Orchestra as a college freshman under maestro David Milnes and stayed with the group for five years, which included an extra year after graduation while I was working down the street. David was also conductor of the Berkeley Contemporary Chamber Players so we played a lot of crazy music by composers like György Ligeti and Witold Lutosławski that stretched the limits of my musical comfort zone.
Claude Debussy's La Mer (Conductor: Vladimir Ashkenazy, Cleveland Orchestra) A beautiful impressionistic symphonic sketch with many exposed oboe solos
My craziest performance experience was with the University Symphony during a performance of Debussy's La Mer. I had just submitted a computer science project and was coming off 40 consecutive hours of coding where I hadn't slept and only eaten a bag of pretzels and five Red Bulls. A few minutes into the piece, under the hot stage lights and wearing a constricting bow tie, I was struck by a dizzy spell and my vision went black. I didn't know what to do so I leaned back in my seat, took a few deep breaths with my oboe held to my lips and tried not to faint. After a few long seconds my vision returned and the rest of the concert proceeded without incident. I don't think anyone even noticed.
My UC Berkeley woodwind quintet in 2007 Left to right: Nick Carnes, Mike Adachi, David Milnes, Perry Roth-Johnson, me, Stacey Wallace
By the time I joined the Stanford Graduate School of Education for my Master's degree in 2009, I was ready for a musical change of pace. So instead of auditioning for the Stanford Symphony Orchestra, I tried out for the Japanese drumming ensemble, Stanford Taiko.
Stanford Taiko 2009-10
This was an amazing experience! I really enjoyed being a beginning taiko student while deeply immersed in educational theory coursework. This allowed me to metacognitively assess various learning techniques to improve as both an educator and a student simultaneously. Stanford Taiko was a very time-intensive group and between it, my graduate work, building Equatia and a part-time game design internship with PlayFirst in San Francisco, I didn't have much time for luxuries like sleep.
There are a few videos of me performing with Stanford Taiko floating around the internet but this is my favorite because Obon is the best venue for playing taiko and also because I totally nail the behind-the-back stick toss during my drum solo at 2:38 (I'm on the far right in the purple).
I played with a couple of other groups after grad school, including Jiten Daiko, a group of post-collegiate taiko players in San Francisco. It was with Jiten that I discovered my first ever internet fan in the comments of this photo from a random Flikr user.
2011 San Francisco Ginza Bazaar
The highlight of my taiko career has to be performing with the incredible fusion drumming group, On Ensemble, which I was fortunate enough to do twice. Here's a shot of me performing i31d03d!jns+vw (yes, that's the name of the piece) with Kris Bergstrom and Masato Baba at the ShastaYama festival in 2011.
ShastaYama 2011 in Mt. Shasta
Dance
I like learning new things and I especially enjoy the early stages where I can be a complete and utter beginner. In early 2013, I started taking social ballroom dancing classes at the now defunct, Linden Street Dance. Ballroom was something I was convinced I would be awful at but once I started, I was hooked. My instructors, Bradley and Vanessa were both amazing teachers and I picked up the dances quickly.
I took classes 4-5 nights a week and I learned a lot from the studio's dance hosts as well. After a few months, I had a strong enough grasp of the major social dances (waltz, American tango, foxtrot, Viennese waltz, cha-cha, rumba, salsa, merengue, bachata, East Coast Swing, West Coast Swing, nightclub two-step, hustle, Argentine tango) to become a dance host myself. Being a host allowed me to take advanced classes in exchange for dancing with other students during the studio's dance parties.
Linden Street Dance Valentine's Party, 2013
Although I enjoyed many different dance styles, my favorite was Argentine Tango for a number of reasons. First, it lacks a basic step pattern, like salsa's quick-quick-slow or waltz's box step, making it more rhythmically improvisational: a musical component I found similar to taiko drumming. Second, since there is no mutually understood step pattern, the lead and follow covers a wide range of possibility and relies on subtle body and footwork which I found surprisingly similar to judo (in both activities, your goal is to lead your partner to step and move as you intend). Third, unlike salsa and swing, I felt comfortable and confident dancing tango and I was good at it.
Lutetia and I practicing volcadas with Homer and Cristina Ladas at The Beat, Valentine's Day 2015
Eventually, I drifted away from ballroom dancing and started attending Argentine tango classes and milongas around the Bay Area. I learned the unspoken rules and rituals of the milonga, like the cabeceo, in which you invite a person to dance by staring at them intensely from across the room, and the tanda, which is a three to four song set, during which you are expected to dance with the same partner. Some conventions directly opposed what I had learned in ballroom, like that saying “thank you” after a dance could be considered extremely rude. As a leader, I also had to learn floor navigation, which can be like trying to move through a crowded elevator full of twirling bodies and errant boleos (a leg flip which can be quite dangerous when it comes tipped with a four inch stiletto).
Lutetia and I at CalTech Tango Marathon, September 2014
While starting out, I explored many different aspects of tango, including performing with a group called Tango Vida, led by Mirabai Commer. Below is a shot from one of our performances that was featured on the bulletin board of Allegro Ballroom in Emeryville. I especially like this photo because below it is my former ballroom teacher, Vanessa, looking absolutely stunning.
Top: Tango Vida performance with Jasmin Intravaia Bottom: Vanessa Thomson and Hugh Chapman
Performing was fun but I felt the real heart of tango was in the social dance. I was hooked on the floorcraft, improvisation and spontaneity that came with dancing in a milonga. In 2014, I performed an improvised tango transition with Lutetia, who at that time was president of the Argentine Tango Club of Berkeley, at Cal Raijin Taiko's Spring Showcase (she was in the group for three years before we met). Our performance was simple but I wanted to convey the feeling of dancing in a milonga, gliding through chaos with easy, precise rhythm and economical movement.
Cal Raijin Taiko 2014 Spring Showcase: HeartBeat (video starts at our dance transition)
Of course, this wasn't the first time I danced onstage at UC Berkeley, and this time I got to be fully clothed so piece of cake! Back in college, I performed everything from Bon Odori with the Nikkei Student Union, to tinikling with the Pilipino American Alliance, to Polynesian hula dance with Cal Hawaii Club. My favorite dance to perform was the Haka, which is insanely fun but if I'm being honest, not really that impressive when a guy like me does it.
Cal Hawaii Club Luau, 2006
To this day, anytime I'm feeling nervous about public speaking or an interview, I think back to the time I stood in front of 500 people wearing nothing but a malo jammed way up my buttcrack (no way I'm posting those pictures) and twirled my way through a traditional Hawaiian kahiko. When you have that kind of perspective, speaking fully clothed in front of an audience doesn't seem that bad at all.
Art
I've been into stenciling since I saw my first Banksy in 2008. Soon after, I cut my first stencil and painted it anywhere I could find a willing surface, like on this t-shirt:
Spray paint on t-shirt (2008)
For my next stencil, I composited a few images in Photoshop, separated it into two colors, then printed them onto acetate sheets which I cut out with an X-Acto. Acetate was more durable than paper, but also harder to cut. I also discovered spray mount, which kept the thin parts from curling up.
Spray paint on canvas (2008)
In the summer of 2008, I built a coffee table with my grandpa and Uncle Bruce. Later that year, I cut Hokusai's Red Fuji out of two poster boards and spray painted the table in my backyard. Today that table sits in the center of my living room.
Spray paint on coffee table (2008)
In 2009, I started grad school and encountered my first Laser Cutter in Paulo Blikstein's FabLab. I had lots of fun with that machine but for some reason didn't do much stenciling. The only sample I could find from that era was this Taiko Man print on Thai pants that I'm pretty sure was cut from printer paper.
Spray paint on Thai pants (2010)
A year later (2011), I tried another stencil based on Hokusai's Inume Pass in the Kai Province. These stencils were printed onto card stock, cut by hand and spray painted on wood. I made two prints: one went to my co-worker and I have no idea where the other one is. Fortunately I still have a couple of photos to remember it by.
Spray paint on oak (2011) PC: Stephanie Tang
My most recent stencil was five long years later in 2016. Before leaving Berkeley for Cleveland, I wanted to create some art to memorialize the Bay Area. This stencil was inpsired by a photo taken from my favorite spot at the Berkeley Marina: the halfway point of my six-mile jogging loop which has an absolutely beautiful view of San Francisco from across the bay.
Spray paint on canvas (2016)
I would sometimes run at night as well, so I made a night print before discarding the stencils (card stock doesn't hold up well after multiple paint passes). This print was painted on my last night in Berkeley while I was frantically packing all of my posessions into boxes so it's a little sloppy. Still, I like having these prints on my wall in Cleveland to remind me of my favorite spot in my favorite city in the world.
Spray paint on canvas (2016)
Sports
Attending an Arts high school was great and I wouldn't trade that experience for anything, but there were some downsides, like not having any organized sports. In college I stayed in shape mostly by biking up the massive Berkeley hills and in high school by playing Dance Dance Revolution, but after college I started working 40-50 hour per week desk jobs where I would come home too tired to do anything but eat dinner and watch TV. Since I could now afford to eat pretty much wherever my heart/stomach desired, I gained 15 pounds that first post-college year.
I would bike around the hills of Berkeley at all hours on my Gary Fisher Tarpon (2007)
In February 2009, determined to get back into shape, I took my first Judo class at San Francisco Judo Institute. While it was tough on my ego to get tossed to the ground by kids half my size, I was highly motivated to learn the techniques that allow a smaller person to throw a larger person. In my first month of judo training three times a week, I didn't land a single clean throw; although, I did drop those extra 15 pounds. Since I was the least experienced student in the class, I would continuously be beaten by teachers, adults, kids, girls, pretty much everyone.
Of course, I got better with practice and began to land some of my throws. I'll never forget the look on the face of the 200 pound new student who I dropped flat on his back with a perfect (okay, it probably wasn't perfect) hip throw. For a guy like me, experiences like this were intoxicating.
I entered my first tournament a few months later and went 1-2 (one win, two losses). This may or may not have been because I spent the day before playing basketball at the park and drinking with my friends. At that tournament, I learned that there was a big difference between randori (practice sparring) and shiai (competition sparring). In my first match, I was thrown hard and as I hit the ground, my opponent drove his shoulder straight into my gut (this doesn't happen in practice). I got the wind knocked out of me and I remember struggling to stand and bow out of the match while unable to breathe. A year later, I entered my second tournament, the 2010 West Clovis Judo Invitational, and went 4-0 despite being the smallest competitor in my weight pool. Needless to say, I wasn't out drinking the night before.
Grappling with Yong Yap while Sensei Jon Bertsch officiates Cal Judo in-house tournament, November 2011
I don't have any badass judo pictures of myself, but here's a cool moment where I'm about to be thrown by a black belt named Yong who is much, much better at judo than me. What you don't see is that a split-second later, I pass Yong's hip and land a counter throw that would have instantly won the match if I hadn't stepped out of bounds. Yong was pretty dismissive entering the match but after almost being countered, he became serious and took me down with ease. After the match, he came up to me and humbly acknowledged the counter move (the best fighters are usually the most humble). In my judo career I've noticed that many of my big victories can be attributed to being underestimated by opponents. It's a lesson I try to apply in aspects of life beyond judo too.
I tested for sankyu (third rank brown belt) in 2011 with Cal Judo and have remained that rank ever since. Since then, I've only trained sporadically because of conditions like long, unpredictable work hours and not having health insurance (oh, the joys of startup life). I would like to earn a black belt one day and am acutely aware that the older I get, the harder it becomes.
Speaking of getting older, in 2013 I picked up a memoir called What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Japanese surrealist author, Haruki Murakami. After finishing it, I decided to become a runner.
San Francisco Half Marathon, August 2014
In my younger days, I often attempted to run long distances but I'd always get impatient and speed up, then get tired, quit and go home to play video games or something. Murakami's book glorified the slow, determined runner, drawing parallels between his running pace and his writing pace and emphasizing consistency over speed. This ended up being the inspiration I needed to set and stick to a regular running routine.
U.S. Half Marathon, November 2014, in a Mugen costume sewn by Lutetia
I started by jogging to the Berkeley Aquatic Park and back (1.2 miles), then graduated to running around the park lake (4 miles), then to the corner of the Berkeley Marina and back (6 miles), then around the entire marina and down the pier (8.5 miles). On February 2, 2014, I ran my first race: the Huntington Beach Surf City Half Marathon, finishing in an hour and 57 minutes (still my fastest half-marathon time).
Surf City Half Marathon, February 2014 (sorry, MarathonFoto)
I tend to be introverted and prefer to train alone but I enjoy the social aspect of races. My good friend, Casey gave me some great advice before my first race, telling me "No matter how fast or slow you run there will always be hundreds of people in front of you and hundreds behind you. The view doesn't change so don't worry about anyone else."
Clockwise from top left: US Half Marathon 2014 with Gavin Leeper SF Half Marathon 2014 with Casey Harelson Berkeley Half Marathon 2014 with Tony Wan and MaryJo Madda SF Half Marathon 2015 with Casey Harelson, Lucas Hennes and Geoff Legg
There are many life lessons I can attribute to running, and I'll end with this anecdote from Murakami that I try to keep in mind whenever I sit down in front of the computer and struggle to find the motivation and focus to write that daunting first line of code for the day.
No matter how much long-distance running might suit me, of course there are days when I feel kind of lethargic and don't want to run. Actually, it happens a lot. On days like that, I try to think of all kinds of plausible excuses to slough it off. Once, I interviewed the Olympic runner Toshihiko Seko, just after he retired from running and became manager of the S&B company team. I asked him, "Does a runner at your level ever feel like you'd rather not run today, like you don't want to run and would rather just sleep in?" He stared at me and then, in a voice that made it abundantly clear how stupid he thought the question was, replied, "Of course. All the time!"
Now that I look back on it I can see what a dumb question that was. I guess even back then I knew how dumb it was, but I suppose I wanted to hear the answer directly from someone of Seko's caliber. I wanted to know whether, despite being worlds apart in terms of strength, the amount we can exercise, and motivation, when we lace up our running shoes early in the morning we feel exactly the same way. Seko's reply at the time came as a great relief. In the final analysis we're all the same, I thought.
Resume
Education
Stanford University: M.A. Learning, Design and Technology ('10)
University of California, Berkeley: B.S. Electrical Engineering and Computer Science ('07)
Los Angeles County High School for the Arts: Music (oboe performance), Valedictorian ('03)
Coding
Unity3D: C#, JavaScript/UnityScript
Ruby on Rails: HTML/Slim, CSS/Sass, JavaScript/jQuery/CoffeeScript/d3js, PostgreSQL
My oboe teacher, Francisco Castillo
Program from my senior recital featuring my middle school band portrait.
My UC Berkeley woodwind quintet in 2007
Stanford Taiko 2009-10
2011 San Francisco Ginza Bazaar
ShastaYama 2011 in Mt. Shasta
