Go High SignsI make and distribute heartfelt posters of support & protest.
Go High Signs
I launched Go High Signs to stay sane during the Trump presidency. On July 31, 2018, when Justice Kennedy retired from the Supreme Court, it felt like the floor dropped out from under me. His vote had helped protect marriage and adoption rights for LGBTQIA+ families—mine included. His exit wasn’t just political maneuvering; it was a warning shot. The 14th Amendment was up for grabs. People like me were suddenly back in the crosshairs.
I lost my voice—literally. Stress triggered weeks of acid reflux, and I could barely speak.
But I could still draw. I could keep making signs and showing up.
I’d been making protest signs and teaching others to do the same for over a decade, but that summer, it became my Work. Every morning, I sketched new posters. I taught myself how to letter at speed. I built a cart to take my signs to the street. Every one of them stamped with my mark. Every one of them aimed to go high.
Posters in the Wild
I made over a hundred signs for March for Our Lives rallies in New Jersey, New York, and D.C. I was lucky enough to join the march in D.C., and felt the electric jolt of collective purpose. Since then, my signs have started popping up in press photos and news stories. It never fails to thrill me.
I don’t make these to decorate. I make them to reach.
I donate signs to protests. I teach others how to make their own—how to choose words that resonate across news feeds and history books. I see every sign as a beacon. Put enough out there, and someone always answers back. Multiply that effect by thousands, and suddenly people who felt isolated see a signal meant just for them.
Why It Matters
When I was a queer kid growing up poor and scared in rural Virginia, I found salvation in zines. Those scrappy, photocopied booklets came through the mail like dispatches from a different world. They told me I wasn’t alone. They kept me alive.
My posters are an extension of that DIY tradition. I craft them with care and urgency—each one a little louder than the last, each one carrying a human pulse behind a protest chant. It’s art, but not for galleries. It’s made to holler across crowds. It’s made to say: I am alive and so are you. Let’s change the world.
This Is the Covenant
I see the United States as an unfinished conversation—a messy, sacred agreement to keep trying. A protest sign is a declaration that we’re still in it. It’s a flare shot across the divide. If I can make a sign that gets someone’s attention, I’ve extended the conversation.
I’ve done my part to keep this covenant alive.
Selected Protest Shots