I had the great privilege of teaching Jackson in his comprehensive project studio during his final year at the University of Oregon. Jackson designed by telling stories. He would map them first in his sketchbook and on layers of tracing paper, then return to them again and again—testing, revising, and deepening his ideas. His project, Productive Prairies, grew from his love for Kearney and his desire to help others see the beauty and complexity of the Nebraska landscape. Where others might see an ordinary stretch of prairie, Jackson saw a living world of relationships, change, and possibility. He believed that people—especially children—could learn from the land through play, movement, and wonder.
The prairie keeps much of its life beneath easy seeing. Its roots extend farther than its grasses rise, holding the soil and holding one another. I have found myself thinking of Jackson this way. He was quiet and serious, but his care ran deep. He gave freely to his friends, his classmates, and our department, often without drawing attention to himself.
When I returned to the University after summer break, still in a fog of sorrow, I found a thank-you note Jackson had sent me in July waiting in my mailbox. It was thoughtful, generous, and genuinely grateful—entirely Jackson. Finding it stopped me in my tracks. I will always treasure it.
We were given far too little time with Jackson. I hope we can carry him forward not only in our sorrow, but in the way we live: by looking closely, welcoming wonder, giving more than we take, and caring for our common ground. The care Jackson gave so freely has entered our keeping.
September 11, 2026