Much of my work begins with collecting. I gather fragments: original compositions, field recordings, voice, and found sound. Together, these materials form an evolving archive that moves between live performance and recorded works. Rather than functioning as references, they become vessels. As sounds are fractured, folded into new contexts, and accumulate new meanings, they create space for listening histories to intersect, where individual experiences converge into a shared one.
I am interested in the threshold where recognition begins to dissolve. A sound can retain just enough of itself to feel familiar without revealing why. Those moments of uncertainty, when something feels known but resists immediate explanation, are central to my practice. I think of them as opportunities for listening rather than puzzles to be solved. Rather than prescribing meaning, I want to create conditions where people can encounter their own associations, memories, and ways of hearing.
Whether through live performance, recorded work, teaching, or Piccolo Listening Room, I am ultimately interested in creating spaces where listening becomes an active practice. I don't think of sound as something that simply communicates ideas. I think of it as a way of reaching experiences that often exist just beyond the reach of language. Ultimately, I want my work to leave room for experiences that cannot always be explained, only heard.