What this is
This isn't a portfolio in the CV sense, and it isn't a shop. It's closer to a workshop with the door left open — an alphabet game I made for my kid, a vinyl recorder I built from flatbed-scanner parts, 3D-printing experiments, and installation art from a stretch of my life when I still exhibited. The common thread isn't a job title. It's that I make things, across code and filament and light, mostly for the fun and the stubbornness of it.
What I do (and what I don't put here)
By day I work in education in the rail industry — good work, but specific, and a lot of it is filming videos. That lives on LinkedIn, not here. This site is the other side: the things I make because I want to, not because anyone's paying for them. I still care about education in my private work too — the ABC game came straight out of that — but it isn't the point of the site. The point is the making.
The art, honestly
From roughly 2003 to 2010 I was active as an artist: installation, light sculpture, photography and interactive work, often together with Luiza Margan. The central piece, Formication — a live ant colony reshaping a projected image — won the OHO Group Award in 2007 and toured for a few years afterwards. I studied at the Universität für angewandte Kunst in Vienna, in Erwin Wurm's class.
I never really stopped making art. I stopped exhibiting it — time is finite and my studio is elsewhere now. So the archive here is honest about its dates: selected works, mostly 2003–2010s, not a claim that I'm currently showing.
Why the site got updated
A gallery gently pushed me back into it — by applying, on my behalf, for funding for an exhibition. Suddenly I needed a portfolio again. Some of these projects are fifteen years old and were never documented; some are half-finished; some are boxes in a 70m² studio that's four rooms of tools, projects, and things I still need to haul to the dump. That's the honest state of it. I'm slowly closing the gap between the things I've made and the things anyone can actually see.
Where making took over
The turn from galleries to the workbench has a specific origin: I wanted to build a vinyl recorder, the parts were expensive or unavailable, so I started upcycling flatbed scanners for their motors and rods, ran an early printer off a candle-heated aluminium plate, and printed the gears I couldn't buy. That chain — scavenge, print, build — is the vinyl recorder story, and it explains most of what's in the workshop today.