About Me

I start every Sunday at the kitchen table, sketchbook open, espresso on standby. Charcoal smudges end up on everything—hands, mug, occasionally the cat—but that mess is half the magic.

I’m hooked on capturing everyday moments: the curl of steam over breakfast, the wonky symmetry of city skylines, and the stubborn personality in old brickwork. Tiny details, big stories.

Classical guitar gave me calluses; late‑night lo‑fi keeps them honest. I chase minor‑seven chords the way some people chase coffee refills—relentless devotion, zero apologies.

Vinyl spins for nostalgia, Spotify for discovery, and my battered noise‑cancelling cans are basically life‑support during crunch time. If you need me after 10 p.m., follow the reverb and half‑lit LEDs.

Thirty‑plus countries in, and I’m still that wide‑eyed tourist photographing street food before eating it. Kyoto’s moss gardens rewired my sense of calm; Mexico City’s colours rewired my definition of “bold.”

I plan trips around art shows and bakeries, then get lost on purpose to meet locals who point me toward better ones. Suitcase smells like coffee beans and sunscreen—no regrets.

Friday salsa nights are my cardio and therapy rolled into one unfussy package. I step on toes, laugh, and keep moving because rhythm forgives what ego won’t.

When the studio lights go dark, I translate that energy into awkward TikTok experiments—think salsa meets meme culture. It’s equal parts endorphin rush, social glue, and a reminder that creativity lives in the hips.