The values that form the foundation of our mission weren't forged in a boardroom, but on a 10-acre Indiana farm. Beginning in 1968, Andrew's world was shaped by his parents, Worth and Reva. They were union steelworkers at Bethlehem Steel—Worth was an early hire at the new facility, and Reva, a real-life Rosie the Riveter, became the first woman "Grade A" electrician in the steel plant, a traditionally male-dominated career. His dad was a resourceful, dumpster-diver type, and one of Andrew's earliest memories is of building a barn with him from scrap lumber. This was the childhood magic: seeing potential where others saw junk. He learned another lesson selling vegetables from the family garden: nobody wanted a 10-pound zucchini, no matter how impressive he thought it was. Success meant understanding what people actually needed. When a Commodore VIC-20 arrived in 1982, this hands-on spirit found a new medium. Andrew taught himself to code and made a Bible quiz game for his church, finding that same joy in making something people could use. The lessons from that happy childhood—in resourcefulness and seeing a job through—were set for life. As his mother Reva always said: "Never do anything half-assed."

The systematic thinking that began on the farm found its focus in 1985. For his high school's Valentine's Day fundraiser, Andrew saw a human problem he could solve with code. He created a matchmaking program that analyzed personality questionnaires, generating compatibility scores for students who paid $1 to get their top matches. The program was a runaway success, but for Andrew, the real breakthrough was a revelation: logic and code could be used to understand and facilitate human connection. This fascination drove his academic career. At Rose-Hulman Institute of Technology, he pursued a demanding dual major in Engineering and Economics, fascinated by how complex systems—both mechanical and social—worked and impacted each other dynamically. His journey culminated in a PhD program at Stanford University's prestigious Center for Design Research. His work on artificial intelligence wasn't just theoretical. At Lockheed, he developed a network of AI agents that solved complex satellite routing problems, demonstrating how autonomous systems could collaborate. This deep understanding of systems engineering would soon find a new application on the emerging public internet.

In 1993, while finishing his PhD at Stanford, Andrew launched Internet Media Services. The web was so new, his was literally the only "Internet" listing in the local Yellow Pages. Seeing a blank canvas, he began building core components for a future digital economy. First was Dine.com, which featured the internet's first interactive street maps and used AI-driven collaborative filtering for restaurant recommendations—a full decade before Yelp. Next, he built the world's first online shopping system from scratch. He followed that by creating the first banner ad network, establishing the fundamental business model that would power the open web for years to come. The most personal project came from an unexpected place. After getting out of a long-term relationship, Andrew saw how inefficient the existing system of newspaper personals was. Recognizing a better way was possible, he decided to build it himself. He launched WebPersonals.com in 1994, the world's first dating site, born not from a business plan but from seeing a human need that could be met more effectively. He made it free, driven by the simple desire to build a better way for people to connect.

In 1996, Andrew launched FriendFinder and a new chapter began. Rejecting the traditional venture capital path, he bootstrapped the entire operation. He was hands-on with nearly every aspect of the business—from programming and marketing to business development. This allowed him to build what people needed, not what an MBA would approve, leading to a network of over 20 inclusive social networking sites, including the first dating platforms for gay and trans people. His philosophy was simple: be open-minded and let adults be adults. But the relentless, hands-on approach came at a cost. As someone who had always been a hard worker, Andrew thought he could power through any challenge. But after 12 years of non-stop pressure, he hit a wall he couldn't break through: burnout. It wasn't just exhaustion; it was a deep depression that robbed him of the very joy he once found in building. And when the joy is gone, bad decisions follow. In 2007, seeing no other way out, he sold the company for a fraction of its worth. It was an escape, but the consequences of losing his life's work were just beginning.

The sale of FriendFinder in 2007 was, on paper, a massive success. He sold a company making $90 million in annual profit for $140 million plus IOUs. To the outside world, this should have been a moment of triumph. For Andrew, it triggered a seven-year spiral into darkness. The problem was that for him, wealth was always an abstract "pile" in a bank account. He didn't spend on luxuries; he still flew coach. His identity wasn't tied to the money, it was forged in the act of building systems to bring people together. He backpacked through Vietnam and India, but discovered that "wherever you go, there you are." However, the builder in him couldn't stop. He launched a series of non-profit social networks to keep his mind occupied, but compared to FriendFinder, they were mere fractions of the size. This only exacerbated the problem, feeding a cycle of self-loathing and rumination on his perceived "failure." For seven years, he was trapped in a massive depression, learning firsthand how regret can relentlessly destroy happiness.

"Learn something worth remembering." That simple advice from a close friend prompted a 2015 New Year's resolution. Andrew had always enjoyed design, art, and beautiful things, and though he had no formal training, he thought it would be a fun challenge to see if he could create one painting every single day for a year. The first paintings were rough, but he soon discovered the process was transformative. For the first time in years, the abstract pain of his "failure" was replaced by the concrete challenge of mixing the right color, of getting a line just so. He didn't know it at the start, but this had become a survival strategy. The physical act of creating demanded his full attention, forcing his brain to build new pathways focused on beauty and craft rather than ruminating on the past. 365 days later, he had 365 paintings. Art hadn't just given him a new hobby; it had fundamentally recreated him. He had found a new, more resilient identity, and discovered that if the simple act of creating could heal the maker, perhaps it held the power to heal others, too.

The healing power of art stood in stark contrast to what was happening in the country. Starting in 2016 with "The Great Unfriending," Andrew watched as friendships ended over a single social media post. From a systems engineering perspective, the problem wasn't the people; it was the system. We are being programmed by money-optimizing ad networks that profit from our anger, tribalizing and dehumanizing us for engagement.

If the problem is a system that dehumanizes us, the solution must be a system that rehumanizes us. This led to the core philosophy of Rehumanism: the act of intentionally seeking out and elevating art that reinforces our shared humanity, warmth, and connection. It required a deeper, more fundamental solution than just another app—it required a new cultural operating system built on Beauty, Truth, and Love.

Coming to the art world as an outsider, Andrew brought a different perspective. He sought to apply every lesson from his background—the systems thinking of an engineer, the resourcefulness of a farm kid, and the user-focus of an entrepreneur—to a new challenge: building a practical system to deploy art for the benefit of humanity. The result is the Conru Art Foundation. This comprehensive ecosystem is focused on real-world actions. It includes the Seattle Atelier, an educational hub passing on master skills; Public Display Art, a program to bring beauty directly into the community; and the Art/Love Salon, which creates zero-commission connections between artists and patrons. Through these programs, the mission is to build a cultural platform that can inspire, renew, heal, and bring joy—a system designed not with code, but with a deep belief in the power of human creativity.