The Great Recession, a Napkin, and an Idea: How Fracture Was Born

Flashback to 16 years ago. It was June 2008. The iPhone 3G had just launched, Facebook had officially overtaken Myspace, and Katy Perry's "I Kissed a Girl" was all over the radio.

It was the summer before my senior year in college, and my friend Alex and I found ourselves in Eswatini (formerly Swaziland), deep in Southern Africa. We'd somehow managed to win a $10,000 grant to research how cultivating the Moringa plant—with its amazing medicinal properties—could help fight the HIV/AIDS crisis devastating the country.

For years up until then, we'd been trying to fund our non-profit work by selling art online —art we licensed from generous artists. We called it MakersUnited—a little college side-hustle for a good cause. We didn't sell much, just a few hundred bucks worth, but the experience stuck with us. And over those three pivotal months in Eswatini, we kept coming back to it.

In between riding kombis up and down mountains, trekking across the countryside, and late nights at our tiny hilltop house, we talked and talked about MakersUnited. The idea felt bigger than it seemed. Maybe it wasn't just about selling art. The few people who bought our prints didn't even frame them—because, let's be honest, framing is such a hassle. But Alex—the most handy, inventive person I'd ever met—had ideas. He thought we could make photo framing easier, a lot easier.

One day, in the capital city of Mbabane, we found ourselves waiting at a hotel restaurant, and again, we circled back to this photo framing idea. Growing up, I used to watch my dad scribble notes in the margins of newspapers, journals, and books—thoughts on stocks, poems, and bits of philosophy. So, inspired by him, I grabbed a napkin from the table and started jotting down our thoughts. We needed a place to capture all the questions and sketches we were working through.

I tucked that napkin away after our meeting—half because it was just a fun memento, half because I had a feeling it meant something.

In the months and years that followed, I kept that napkin. It moved with me, tucked into folders and later boxed up as we moved from one space to the next. And it would stay with me as that scrappy idea transformed into what would eventually become Fracture—a photo decor brand with millions of customers across the world.

A few years ago, our office manager stumbled upon that napkin in an old filing cabinet. She framed it—a little piece of history, beautifully preserved.

I still look at that napkin now and then. Partly to reminisce, but mostly as a reminder of the beautiful randomness of life.

Why take a social entrepreneurship class my freshman year when I should have been focused on running the med school rat race? I wanted an easy A. But it also sounded interesting, so I gave it a shot. And it led me to people who would change my life.

Why did I think I could win a prestigious $10,000 grant when I'd never even written a grant application before? I didn't—but I figured, what did I have to lose?

Why did Alex and I think starting a photo decor startup during the Great Recession with absolutely zero business experience was a good idea? I still can't say for sure.

But here's what I do know: life isn't a straight line. Lean into the uncertainty. Say yes even when you're not sure. Hold on to those small moments of curiosity, fear, and excitement (maybe scribble your thoughts down on a napkin)—because sometimes, they turn into something far bigger than you ever imagined.

What's your 'napkin moment'? I'd love to hear about it.