This page gathers two kinds of making: open-ended world building that treats fiction as a laboratory, and practical spatial projects where digital and physical landscapes braid into one another. Each piece is a small, walkable argument about how places could feel.
I am drawn to storytelling tools that sense you in real time — drift, light, and material becoming the grammar of a narrative you help author. The goal is to make synthetic worlds feel as specific and stubborn as the real one.
A drifting installation that sonifies the memory of vanishing reefs, letting visitors hear a coastline that no longer exists. Sound, tide, and absence become the material of a mourning you can walk through.
A reimagined public square whose pavement breathes and gathers light according to the quiet mood of the crowd. Circulation, rest, and ecological repair fold into one gentle urban gesture.
A speculative botany game about protecting impossible flowers in a city that keeps forgetting its own seasons. Players tend memory as much as petals, and the garden remembers them back.
Architectural studies of doorways between apartments and alternate timelines, exploring loneliness and connection. Each threshold is a small negotiation with a life you might have lived.
A co-design project where humans and city raccoons negotiate shared rooftops through gentle, listening machines. Care, territory, and mischief are prototyped as a single commons.