I am a maker

To continue being a maker is the only aspect of my life that I am certain about. I don’t know if I would call myself a photographer, a musician or an artist - but I know for certain that I am a maker.


When I make things I don’t need to feel safe in any way. I love surprises and accidents and work on things until play becomes more serious and focused. The challenge is constant and I truly love it. My tools are mostly technological and they give me a way of working that has a lot of freedom to to experiment, to work fast and cheap.

Spontaneity drives my work forward. In many ways my life as well. But contradictory to my life, in music and art I understand the sailor who smiles when the storm rises. In making I am drawn to the unknown: to strange new works, to new tools and to new sounds. Being busy and making thigs is the way I navigate the endless currents of thought that flood through my mind. And that feeling of taming the storm, of feeling the click of music or art that finally works and found it’s expression. I truly love that.

I lost too many years suffocating under strategy and control, mistaking other peoples expectations as the only creation important in my life. I told myself it was enough and that I had to do it. In my head producing films was a form of artistry, managing events was creative and making good money was the end goal. But it wasn’t. It was order, not freedom. I started doing some creative projects early, but when I got sick and was forced to spend a lot of time alone some of the things I had locked inside me for years erupted. The result was, and still is, chaotic and without any goals or commands. In what I am doing I get to experience what no money can buy, because only effort and experimentation can get you there.

An artist is not a guide. Each piece must stand in its own silence. What it means to me is rarely what it means to someone else, and that contradiction is the point. A grandmother’s recipe tastes different to every child, yet always remains the best they’ve ever known. So too with art and music: the experience is shaped by who you are, by what shadows you carry. If there is one hope I have, it is that someone might encounter my work and find themselves looking inward, discovering something unspoken, something only they could uncover, in their own room, in their own time.

The future of my creative work is not a destination. It is an endless unfolding, the work that calls to me each morning. The fucking reason I continue to smile. It is not a command or a goal to reach, but a process. A safe spot in a storm without end, and the most meaningful voyage I will ever know.

I am a maker, and I am fucking proud of it.