Lately it's been a lot of music that feels like it was recorded in a room slightly smaller than it should be. Compressed, close, a little claustrophobic in the best way.

I've been going deep on early 2000s electronic stuff. The kind of music that sounds like it came from machines that were proud of sounding like machines. No attempt to mimic warmth. Just clean digital edges and a beat.

It pairs well with drawing. Something about the repetition creates a container for the work. The music fills the silence without demanding attention.

I'll be putting together some playlists in the music section eventually. For now, just know that whatever I've been making visually, this is what it sounds like in the background.

There is something that only happens after midnight. The apartment gets quiet. The pressure of the day dissolves. And suddenly the drawing goes somewhere it wouldn't have gone at 3pm.

I don't fully understand it. Maybe it's the low light, or the fact that nobody is going to knock on the door. Maybe the tired brain stops second-guessing and just moves the hand.

Most of the pieces in the gallery started between midnight and 2am. I don't think that's a coincidence.

I used to fight it, try to keep normal hours. I don't anymore.

The shop is going up soon. Small run, maybe 20 pieces. Tees and a print or two.

I've been putting it off for a year, always finding a reason why it wasn't the right time. The designs weren't done. The sizing wasn't right. The photos weren't good enough.

At some point you have to just ship the thing. It will never be perfect, and waiting for perfect means it never exists.

So: first drop, coming soon. If you've been around for a while, you'll recognize the imagery. If you're new, welcome to the visual world I've been building quietly.

More details in the shop section when it's live.

I wanted this site to feel like a device. Something you pick up and navigate. Not a scroll, not a feed — more like a small machine with a limited number of things it does, and it does them well.

The phone frame, the app grid, the pixel font. I wanted it to feel like it was running on hardware from a slightly different timeline. Functional and a little strange.

It's all just HTML and CSS and a bit of JavaScript. No framework, no build step. You can right-click, view source, and read the whole thing. I think that matters.

The web used to be like this — small pages people actually made. I'd like to be part of bringing that back, even in a small way.

So I finally did it. Built a little corner of the internet that is entirely mine.

No algorithm, no feed, no engagement metrics. Just a page that loads and does exactly what I tell it to. It feels strange and good at the same time, like moving into an empty room and deciding what goes where.

This is where I'll drop thoughts when they feel too long for anywhere else. No schedule, no format. Just notes.

Welcome, I guess. Pull up a chair.