I’ve always been drawn to the invisible. Light is one part of it—how it moves through glass, how it paints a space without ever touching it. But sound, too, holds that same elusive power. It fills a room without form. It lingers. It vibrates. And lately, it’s been finding its way deeper into my visual practice.
Audio as Atmosphere
When I work in the studio, I rarely do so in silence. Ambient tones, field recordings, modular loops—they create a kind of architecture around me. It’s not just background; it’s structure. Sound influences the choices I make with color, the shapes I gravitate toward, the pacing of my process.
Recently, I’ve been experimenting more deliberately with audio compositions—treating them not just as support to the visual work, but as parallel expressions. Pieces that breathe alongside glass, video, and performance.
Recent Work
One of my latest sound pieces, titled “Resin Echo,” was made entirely from processed recordings inside a cathedral stairwell. Footsteps, shifting air, the creak of a distant door—all layered into a textured drone. I used this piece as the sonic backbone of a video installation, and something about the pairing felt deeply right. It brought the glass into conversation with space in a new way.
I’ve also released a few standalone audio tracks—meditative, minimalist, often meant to be played on loop. You can listen to selections here or in the Audio section of the site.
Why Sound?
Because it’s fluid. It reaches without needing to be seen. And in a practice like mine—one rooted in material, color, form—sound gives permission to expand beyond the frame. To think about presence. Duration. Feeling.
If you’ve listened to my audio work, or experienced a piece where sound played a role, I’d love to hear what stayed with you. For me, it’s the quiet resonances that linger longest.
