Who are you, beyond the labels people give you?
I’m someone trying to make the invisible visible. I live for moments where nothing happens, because that’s where everything begins. Creativity isn’t a process for me, it’s a state of being. When you’re quiet enough, you can hear what wants to be made.
You live very secluded, how does that shape your work?
Silence is my greatest luxury. I live where there’s no traffic, no notifications, no noise. I wake with the light, work when the wind changes, and stop when the sun fades. Everything follows the rhythm of nature, not calendars. Art needs silence. Without it, it becomes just another sound.
Many artists struggle to live solely from their art, yet you’ve chosen to do only that, how?
I realized early that you can’t have everything. I wanted time, not things. I built structures that allow me to stay independent. I sell my work only through an inner circle network, collectors, musicians, architects, philosophers, about four hundred people worldwide. It’s not about reach, it’s about resonance, a quiet community that grows through alignment, not promotion.
What inspires you in this isolation?
Change in nature keeps me awake. The way fog moves, how water reflects sound, how trees bend differently each day. These are scores to me, compositions written by silence. I record them, not with equipment, but with attention. Everything I create begins there.
How would you describe your aesthetic?
Reduced, raw, precise. I remove until it breathes on its own. If something feels too perfect, I break it slightly so it becomes real again. Beauty without fracture is forgettable.
What would you wish for the art world today?
More silence, less opinion, less comparison. Art isn’t a competition, it’s memory. If it’s honest, four hundred people are enough to keep it alive.